Meeting at a Quidditch game
by Anyisa
Summary: Hermione runs into Oliver at a Quidditch game and he offers help in teaching Hermione a thing or two about Quidditch. owhr in later chapters.
1. Meeting at a Quidditch game

**Disclaimer- I own nothing and make no money.**

**Thank's to Rosie for beta'ing.**

"Did you see that, Hermione?" the excited voice of Ronald Weasley demanded as he jumped to his feet to cheer on the Cannons. "That was brilliant!"

Hermione paused to glance up from the program she'd gotten when they'd stepped through the gates of the Quidditch Pitch – she felt as though she should to show at least a small amount of interest in the scene in front of her - before focusing her attention back onto the program. While she didn't enjoy Quidditch and, as such, had successfully stayed fairly uneducated regarding the sport during her years at Hogwarts, she loved to read - and this was the only reading material available. She'd learned, so far, that, although her friends sang their praises, the Chudley Cannons were not having the best year…or the best decade, depending on how you wanted to look at it; and their competitors, the Kenmare Kestrels, were at their peak playing performance and had been for the past few years.

'In other words,' she thought as she flipped a page, 'the Cannons have no chance in Hades of winning.'

She looked at Ron and wondered why he was still obsessed with a team that had peaked years before he was even born, but she bit her tongue, knowing it must be a sports thing and that pointing such a detail out to him would only lead to a screaming match. She'd also learned something else during this game – though this discovery could not be credited to the program: sitting in stadium seats for more than an hour was less than pleasant. She'd actually come to that conclusion around two hours ago, but she'd been unable to do much except stand up a few times to get the circulation back, or sit and pray that the Snitch would be caught soon. She fervently hoped that this would not turn out to be one of those games that went on for days without interruption.

"Hermione, why don't you go get a drink or something?" Harry suggested, noticing that she was about to start reading the program _again_.

"It's impossible to get out of this aisle," she grumbled, looking down said aisle with a sullen look. It was narrow anyway, but with knees taking up half of the width, it would be more effort than her life was worth to attempt to maneuver through.

Harry followed her gaze and shrugged his agreement before he focused his attention on the game again. She looked down the aisle once more and winced as the stadium erupted in shouts – cheers and boos from both sides - as a call was made. Whatever had been said, it seemed that it was popular with the crowd.

"Everyone's on their feet, 'Mione, go now," Harry urged as he stood with Cannons crowd and cheered.

She sent him a grateful smile and stood to begin pushing her way along the row. It took the better part of twenty minutes to get to the top of the stairs and make her way to the bathroom, but she made it with barely a scratch. It wasn't until she had used the facilities that she realized she didn't quite know what to do now that she was out of her seat. She looked down the almost deserted corridor that ran under the pitch and began to make her way back to her seat, wishing that she had at least grabbed the paper on her way out of her flat.

"Now something tells me that isn't the face of a true fan," an unfamiliar voice said from beside her, causing her to jump. She recovered herself before looking up to see who had spoken.

"I'm afraid you're right," she answered sheepishly, looking away when she saw his tall frame, practically draped in the almost offensive colors of the Kestrels, emerald green with yellow accents.

He looked vaguely familiar – but then, with a job at the Minitry that had her in an office on the main floor, where most of the foot traffic was, that wasn't especially unusual; she sometimes thought that half the wizarding population of Britain looked 'vaguely familiar' to her. He looked to be a few years older than her and she found herself wondering if they had gone to school together. He would have been on a Quidditch team if the amount of merchandise he had on was any indication, and that alone told her that she wouldn't have known him well even if they had gone to school together.

"So why come?" he asked as he positioned himself in such a way as would allow him to look through the archway, out onto the field, as well as remain within speaking distance of her.

"My friends dra…brought me as a celebratory 'date'," she explained, catching herself and blushing as she almost completely gave away her dislike for the game.

There was a pause as he craned his head to follow a play; when it went out of sight, he asked, "Why would they do that, is it your birthday?" his gaze falling back to her.

"No." She smiled. "It's not my birthday. It's one of my friends' actually," she explained, thinking of how excited Ron had been when the tickets Harry and she had bought for him had arrived - he'd been worse than a child at Christmas with them. "If you'd like to go back to the game, don't let me keep you," she said when his gaze strayed to the archway again and he cursed softly at something that happened.

"Oh, don't worry. I needed to stretch my legs," he assured her before he gave her a look that had her thinking there was something on her face. "I feel as if I've seen you before," he said suddenly.

"I've got the same feeling."

"Were you at a Puddlemere game in the last couple of weeks?" he asked, still studying her.

"No, I haven't been to a game since the World Cup, when Ireland played Bulgaria - and that was almost seven years ago," she replied, before asking a question of her own. "Did you go to Hogwarts?"

"Yes," he answered, then his eyes brightened and he smiled. "You were a Gryffindor, weren't you?"

"Yes, I was. I'm Hermione Granger," she introduced herself, offering her hand to him.

"I think I remember seeing you around the common room. I'm Oliver Wood," he said, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it go.

"That sounds familiar," she murmured, trying to remember the name. "Were you on the Quidditch team?" she asked, just before an almost deafening cheer split the air and the rafters above them shook from the force.

She noticed his chest puff up slightly and resisted the urge to laugh at the man beside her as he answered. "Yes, I was and captain for two years, too."

"Then I must know you through Harry or Ron," she said as a few people began to trickle into the corridor. It seemed the game was over.

"Harry?"

"Harry Potter, he was on the Quidditch team from our first year," she explained, as she was almost knocked over by a rather dejected looking Cannons fan.

"Oh, Potter. Yeah, it's hard to forget a player with that kind of skill," he said, his eyes slightly unfocused as he thought back to the raw talent Potter had shown. "He's not in Quidditch professionally, is he?"

"No, he's been focused on a career in the Ministry," she said, then started as an arm wound itself around her waist.

"There you are, 'Mione. I was worried," Ron sighed, squeezing her to him before he let her go. "You're Oliver Wood, right; Keeper for Puddlemere?"

"Yeah, and you must be Ron," Oliver answered as his gaze flickered to the boy's red hair and scar-free forehead.

"Yeah. Brilliant game, wasn't it?" he asked, although, judging by the depressed look he was sporting, this was just a polite attempt at conversation.

"Hey, 'Mione, see you made it out alive," Harry joked as he joined the small group.

"Yes, thank you. You remember Oliver Wood, don't you?" she asked, motioning to the man.

"Hard not to. How you doing, mate? Good game last week," he said, shaking the Keeper's hand before turning to Hermione. "We're going out for a bite to eat, are you up for it?" he asked as he was pushed by passing Quidditch fans.

Hermione thought about it. She really hadn't enjoyed the game and it was more than likely that that would be the topic of lunch.

"I'd like to, but I have a few files at home I have to finish," she said, sending a regretful smile to her friends, who returned it.

"Alright then, 'Mione, I'll talk to you later," the red head said, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek before he straightened and, with a nod to Oliver, walked off to the Apparation point.

"I'll see you at the party tonight, Herms," Harry said quietly before he too made his way to leave the stadium.

"Party, huh?" Oliver asked after Harry was gone with a small 'pop'.

"For Ron's birthday," she said, beginning to fidget with the program in her hands. "We're throwing him a party tonight."

"I don't usually invite myself places but would you mind if I came?" he asked.

Hermione gave him an odd look before she answered. "I'm not sure. Well, I suppose you could come - it's at The Leaky Cauldron and it's not as if we reserved it for our party. It's just a get-together really." She began to ramble, not used to talking to a member of the opposite gender unless they had red hair or a scar on their forehead.

"I'm not asking to marry you," he laughed, causing her to blush almost painfully and begin to stammer out an apology. "Calm down, Hermione. I figured that would be better than asking you to come to the Puddlemere game next week, you'd be surrounded by friends tonight," he soothed her, noticing her blush.

"Why on earth would you ask me to a game next week? You barely know me," she asked suspiciously.

"I feel it's my duty to change the opinion of any non-Quidditch fan." He shrugged, giving her a smile that settled her nerves a bit.

"So I could have been anyone and you would have invited me to a game next week?" she asked, feeling a bit hurt, although she couldn't figure out why.

"I _was _going to ask you to a game but decided not to, remember?" he asked still smiling. "And besides, I don't often meet a woman who's not ready to throw a phone number or her underclothes," at that he blushed, "at me."

If she was supposed to be flattered by his admission he would find himself disappointed. She studied him for a few minutes before she shrugged in indifference.

"I suppose Ron would appreciate another Quidditch fan there," she said, by way of an invitation.

"Wood, come on. Play suitor later, if we're late coach'll kill us," a voice called from somewhere down the corridor.

He looked over his shoulder and waved the person off before turning back to her.

"What time?"

"We'll be getting him there by seven," she said, glancing at her watch.

"I don't get out of practice until eight. I'll be there before ten and then we'll begin your Quidditch lessons," he promised before he turned and made his way towards his team mates.

"Lessons?" she called, feeling rather nervous. She liked to learn, yes - but at a party?

"I'll bring some plays and teach you the basics," he answered before he sent her a wave and Disapparated.

Hermione walked to the Apparation point and sighed as she Disapparated, knowing that all of her well laid plans of learning nothing about Quidditch - save the program she'd studied more than she'd have liked - were going to go up in flames tonight if he showed up.


	2. Meeting at a pub

**Disclaimer- Don't own anything, not making any money from the story**

**Thank you to Rosie for beta'ing!**

The party was loud, Hermione observed from her spot at the bar as she sipped her first (and last) glass of wine of the night. Ron had been surprised with the party and was now on his third Firewhisky of the night.

"'Ermiynee," he called from across the room, startling a few people but succeeding in getting her attention. "I love you, you know. Bloody brilliant party," he said, toasting her before downing his drink and ordering a fresh one.

"Thank you Ron," she called back with a smile before letting her gaze wander.

They had only been here for two hours and already the party had doubled in size with late-comers. She watched as Harry danced with Ginny in a dimly lit corner and hid a smile when she saw the twins sneak up behind them. She thought about calling out to warn the couple but she knew that interrupting a prank of the twins' would only result in their efforts being directed towards her instead. She found herself watching the clock, glancing towards the door every time she checked to see how far the hands had moved. She didn't honestly think he was going to come but, for some reason, she found herself looking forward to his possible imminent appearance. It was just after nine and he had said that he would arrive around ten, but she still looked at the door whenever the bones above it rattled, announcing a new arrival.

"Hermione, you need to get out more," Charlie, Ron's second oldest brother, said as he walked up to the bar and leaned against it in order to talk to her.

She didn't really know much about the dragon tamer, only that he had more than his fair share of burns as well as tattoos.

"I get out plenty, Charlie." She smiled, her eyes flickering towards the door when the bones rattled…it wasn't him.

"I've heard that you... cheers," he thanked the bartender as he set a muggle drink, a Cherry Bomb, in front of him. He took a sip before continuing, "that you stay at home every weekend and curl up with your books and paperwork."

"That's not true," she scoffed with a roll of her eyes. '_I curl up with a blanket and a mug of hot chocolate_,' she amended silently.

"Uh-huh." He smirked at her answer, then tipped his head to her and walked off to stand with Bill and Fleur.

"I thought for a second there that you had brought another date," a familiar voice said from behind her, before the stool next to her was pulled out and a stack of papers were set in front of her.

"Hello, Oliver," she greeted him as she picked up the parchment on the top to look it over - only to have it snatched from her hands. "I was reading that," she protested, frowning at him.

"You're not learning about Quidditch at the bar of a pub. We'll get a table."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at his logic but turned in the revolving chair to look for an empty table.

'_It seems I'm not meant to learn the basics of Quidditch_,' she mused when no available table was found. "I thought you weren't coming until ten."

"I didn't have as much to do as I thought." He shrugged, his eyes still searching the room for a spare table. "Come on," he said quickly, grabbing the parchment in one hand and her arm in the other when he saw a small table become vacant.

Hermione groaned as he led her to the table and tried not to pout when he pulled a chair out for her, waited for her to be seated and handed her the pile of parchment. Oliver sat down and rolled up the sleeves of his jumper before he took the topmost piece of parchment from the stack she still held and slapped it down on the table.

"This is the Quidditch Pitch," he said, pointing to the diagram.

Hermione stared at him blankly before she became a bit offended and went on the defense.

"I know what it is. I went to almost every game Gryffindor played while I was at Hogwarts," she snapped, dropping the parchment on the table with a thump and moving to push her chair back.

"Then you know what these are and who defends them," he said, pointing to the goal posts and raising an eyebrow as he waited for her answer.

"Of course I know what they are. They're goal posts," she bit out; defending her intelligence was far more important than leaving

"And who defends them?" he asked, a smirk forming on his face.

"The Keeper," she answered after a few seconds of thought.

"Alright, so you know a smidge." He shrugged as he pulled the next sheet to the table. "What is this?" he asked, pointing to a picture of a rather oddly-shaped ball.

Hermione stared at the picture and tried to dredge up any conversation of Quidditch that didn't involve the Snitch but found herself drawing a blank. Glancing at Oliver, she saw him studying her, still smirking, and she returned to her thoughts, not wanting to be proven wrong.

"Well?" he asked, sounding a bit impatient. "What is it? You've watched so many games…" His sarcasm wasn't lost on her and she straightened up to think properly.

"Bludger," she answered with less confidence than she would have liked.

"No, this is a Quaffle. The Chasers pass this to one another down the Pitch to score," he explained, tapping the first diagram with a finger and successfully drawing her attention to it.

She watched as three brooms formed an arrow shape then broke off to fly close together, even with each other, a small Quaffle being sent from one to the other as the brooms made their way to the opposite end of the pitch.

"Understand?" he asked, tapping the page again to stop the motion and pushing it aside to make room for a new one.

"Yes, I guess." She shrugged, focusing her attention on the newest sheet. "Those are Bludgers?" she asked, knowing that at least one ball in the game had that name.

"Yes, these are Bludgers. These are designed to interfere with the players' flying and it is the Beaters' job to keep them from harming their Chasers or Seekers by using these bats," he explained, showing her another piece of parchment, "usually by aiming at the Chasers of the other team."

Hermione nodded her understanding and turned her attention to the original diagram as he tapped it again. Two brooms appeared, a bat beside each of them. Suddenly, two balls appeared on the parchment and began whizzing around a third broom, which had a Quaffle attached to it. The two original brooms moved to the third and the bats hit the Bludgers away from the broom and towards an unknown destination.

"How do the Bludgers work?" she asked, pulling the drawing of the Bludgers in front of her and studying it, looking for any sign that would answer her question.

"They're enchanted to attack whichever player happens to be nearest to them," he explained, before he took the parchment from her and set another piece in front of her. "What is that?"

"It's a Snitch."

"Who catches it?"

"The Seeker." He made to tap the parchment to show a demonstration of the action but Hermione stopped him by placing a hand on his wrist. "I remember seeing Harry performing his task well enough."

"Good." He took the sheet and placed another in front of her. "What is it?"

"That's a broom," she said slowly, giving him an odd look.

"I know that," he huffed, tapping the picture. "What kind of broom?"

The brown-haired witch looked at him as if he'd grown a second head before answering.

"How on earth am I supposed to know what type of broom it is? I'm assuming it's a Quidditch broom."

"A Quidditch broom?" he asked after she'd finished.

Hermione looked at him, feeling a bit of self-consciousness seep into her mind, but she tried to put on a confident front as she answered.

"Yes, a Quidditch broom. They're used for Quidditch."

"There's no such thing as a 'Quidditch broom', Hermione. This is a racing broom."

"Then what do you use to play Quidditch?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back into her chair.

"Are you serious?" he asked, giving her the kind of look she remembered giving Neville frequently in Potions. "There are two types of brooms, flying brooms and racing brooms. Racing brooms are more for Quidditch, flying brooms are more for a family outing."

She nodded and looked back at the picture. "So it's a racing broom?"

"Yes, but what kind?" he asked, impatience coloring his voice once more.

"Nimbus 2000?" she asked, naming the only one she really remembered ever having heard of.

"The Nimbus 2000's almost ten years old, if not older," he said flatly before pointing to the picture again.

"How on earth am I supposed to know different types of brooms?" she asked, feeling his anger was rather unfounded.

"By the shape of the handle!" he said, as though should have been obvious. "The Nimbus 2000 has an angular curve just above the cushioning charm…."

"'Angular curve' is an oxymoron," she said, cutting him off and trying to hide a smile at his confused expression.

"What?"

"Angular implies a sharp angle while curve implies a round corner. You've just canceled out both of the words by linking them," she explained in her best lecture voice, the one she used during staff meetings or management meetings at the Ministry.

"Do you want to learn about Quidditch or not?" he asked, sending her a look that told her that her explanation was neither required nor appreciated.

Hermione thought about his question and silently cursed when she realized that the answer was yes. While this wouldn't have been something she would have learned willingly, being told that she was to learn the basics had piqued her interest and now that she'd learned a few things, she wanted to know the rest. She had always had to know about something in its entirety, even if she didn't care for the subject.

"Yes," she huffed, upset at her weakness for learning.

"Then stop interrupting me and let me teach you the proper aspects of the game," he demanded, pointing to the drawing once more. "This is a racing broom designed by the Nimbus company, but it isn't marketed under the name Nimbus. It's called the Halo 1987…"

"Why 1987?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"If you would have let me finish the explanation you would have gotten your answer."

Hermione blushed at the edginess of his words and bit her lip, motioning for him to continue.

"This broom is the Halo '87 because the prototype was first drafted in 1987 – it wasn't released directly because of problems with the paperwork. The broom was before its time; only a few minor changes were made to original prototype, and so it was marketed under the name '1987'. The result is that the buyer realizes that the company is good at thinking ahead," he explained, his eyes losing focus slightly as he talked about his passion.

Hermione assumed that she tended to adopt the same expression when she spoke about new advances in potions. She was the Junior Head of the Potions Patent and Distribution board in the Ministry and often found herself day-dreaming about the potions had been put on her desk that day and how they could benefit the wizarding world.

"You should have seen it when it first came out. It was almost up there with the Shooting Star…or down there, if you want to be technical," he said, throwing her a look before continuing. "And every shop had to put special offers on to get them moving at first. I bought one for a little tyke down at an orphanage near the practice pitch, just so he would be able to get off the ground a bit and feel the wind in his hair."

Hermione was a bit surprised to hear that from the man sitting beside her but held her tongue, waiting for him to continue.

"I had to test it out before I gave it to him, didn't want him sitting on the broom and it snapping in half…"

"Why would you think it would do that?" she asked, unable to stop the question and truly curious.

"The broom couldn't have cost more than 10 Galleons and as the Nimbus at that time was going for 1,000, I had good reason. Anyway, I got on the broom and kicked off and…I don't think I've ever felt that free on a broom. It went faster than a Nimbus and could stop as quickly as it gained speed; it was brilliant." He sighed. "I had to go back to Quality Quidditch Supplies and get a reduced speed Comet for him – I felt bad at first, but he was thrilled with the Comet, so I didn't feel too guilty for long."

"So this is a...?"

"Halo '87," he answered, tapping the parchment with the tip of his wand.

Hermione watched as the words 'Halo '87' appeared on the handle of the broom and took her time looking over the drawing before turning to Oliver and nodding for him to place the next sheet in front of her. He glanced at the clock on the wall and shook his head.

"It's almost midnight, and I have an early practice tomorrow," he said, gathering the parchment.

"It's what?" she asked, jerking her head towards the clock, only to see that it was indeed half an hour until midnight. "That went rather fast!"

"We got a lot less covered than I would have liked." He frowned, looking at the stack of sheets in his hands before continuing. "I'll give you my address so you can owl me when you're free to have a session again."

"Why do you think I'll want another session?" she asked, scoffing at his forwardness.

"You've just learned the bare basics. It'll drive you bonkers until you learn more, trust me," he assured her as he ripped off a small piece of parchment from the top sheet and tapped it with his wand, then handed the scrap of paper to her and pocketed the wand. "I have practice tomorrow and Sunday and my next game is on Thursday with another on Friday. If I don't hear from you, I'll send you tickets for the Thursday game."

"Why would I want to go to a Quidditch match?" she asked, as she stood up too.

"Wouldn't you want to make a potion, if you'd already seen it on paper?" he asked before giving her a little wave and turning to leave the Leakey Cauldron.

"Thank you," she called when he got to the fireplace, the crowd around them - who she had quite forgotten during her lesson - making it hard for her to be heard.

"Owl me," was his reply before he tossed a pinch of Floo Powder in the fire and shouted out his destination without a backwards glance.

"'Mione! Where have you been?" Ron asked, coming up to her and draping an arm around her shoulders, leaning into her a bit more than he would have in a less inebriated state.

"I've been right here, Ron. How many have you had?" she asked, motioning towards his almost empty glass of Firewhisky.

"How old am I?" he asked, looking at her as if it were truly a struggle to see clearly.

"Why?"

"I'm drinking one for every year I'm old."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at his wording but only smiled and shook her head, knowing that Ron would be Flooing to her house in the morning, begging for a Sober-Up Potion.

"You're 24, Ron."

"Oh…I have… five more to go, 'Mione. Thank you." He gave her a goofy smile and patted her on the head before moving off to the bar, slamming his glass down for Tom to fill.


	3. Give the owl a rest

**Disclaimer- Still own nothing, not making one thin dime from this story.**

**Thank you to Rosie for beta'ing for me. **

**Thanks to:**

**san01- I have updated!**

**Lady Venya of the isle- I wouldn't mind a private lesson myself lol**

**CelesteThePirate- Don't worry, its'a coming**

**Nynaeve80- I'm afraid my Charlie/Hermione muse has run away and refused to leave a forwarding address...sigh  
**

**Now, onto the story...**

After a hectic day at work the only thing on Hermione's mind was the newest 'Dark Hunter' book, which was waiting for her at her flat - so when an owl dropped an envelope on her desk just as she was packing up to go home, then flew off without waiting for a treat, she shot a wary glance at the letter and cast a strong detection spell on the envelope, relaxing slightly when it showed no detectable hexes.

"What are you doing, Granger?" Adrian Pucey asked from her doorway, causing her to start. She glared at him.

"Haven't you heard of knocking, Pucey?" she said by way of a reply, gingerly picking up the packet and attempting to place the almost illegible scrawl on the front.

"It's a Quidditch package, not an exploding memo; the Sinter twins aren't allowed in the mailroom anymore, remember?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the reminder and motioned for him to sit in the chair across from her before picking up her letter opener and slitting the side of the envelope.

"Who would send you Quidditch tickets?" the former Slytherin asked as he leaned over the table to check the teams. "How did you get box tickets?"

"Pick a question and stick with it," Hermione said absently as she checked both the time and the date of the game.

"How did you get box tickets?" he asked again, sitting back in his seat but extending a hand for the tickets.

"I didn't think he was serious," she murmured as she passed him a ticket.

"I'll go with you. Potty and Weasel are too into their slags to worry about spending time with you," Adrian graciously 'volunteered' with a smirk.

"Ginny and Lavender are no….Ginny is _not_ a slag," Hermione chided, sending him a wicked grin in acknowledgement of her self-correction.

"Fine, one out of two isn't bad," he responded with a shrug.

Hermione bit back a giggle at his seriousness and thought about the man across from her. She had never really known him in Hogwarts – aside from the fact that he had been in Slytherin, he was in his seventh year as she was starting her first - but he'd introduced himself on her first day at the Ministry and had made sure to stick close by her the first few months on the job. Harry and Ron had been convinced that she was in a relationship with him and refused to talk to her for a week. She had the sneaking suspicion that Adrian had had a little 'chat' with them because when she was invited for tea at the end of that week, not a single word had been mentioned about her relationships, imagined or otherwise.

"So, when do you want me to Floo by your place?"

"The game…"

"Match."

Hermione scowled at his correction but continued with her answer, "Starts at five...that's late for a _match_, isn't it? I mean, they could go on for hours and it's not as if the people don't have things to do or jobs to go to the next day. There really should be a time constriction on the game…"

"Bloody Hell; let's _not_ get into this again. I'll pick you up at two," Adrian, used to her complaints on the sport, sighed.

"Why two?"

"It's best to go to a game a few hours earlier to get a bearing on how the team will do," he explained with a shrug.

"Harry and Ron came by to pick me up a quarter of an hour before the game." She felt the need to justify her earlier question.

"Yes, well they've also been written up for tardiness twenty times within the past month. So as I was saying, I'll pick you up at two…no, make that one, I'll take you to lunch and then we'll go to the match."

"Granger, aren't you supposed to be at home?" an un-amused voice inquired from the doorway, bringing the attention of both occupants of the room to it.

"She was just going home, Weasley, so leave off," Adrian answered for her with a sneer directed towards Percy, who still stood in her doorway with an almost disgusted look on his face.

"I don't remember asking you, Pucey," the red-head snapped, a glare presenting itself.

"I don't remember hearing that the Minister gave you orders to break the suction of your mouth from his arse, but here you are."

"Adrian," Hermione admonished, although she had to hide her giggle with a cough, which earned her a glare from Ron's older brother.

"So, one?" the sandy haired man asked with a smile, ignoring both her warning and the man at the door.

"You're horrible, Adrian," she huffed before standing up to slip her robes on, making sure to tuck the ticket safely inside a pocket in the lining of the light cloak.

"But you love me anyway," he reminded her before he too stood and held his arm out for her. "I'll escort you to the Floo."

"Prat."

Percy, who was still at the door, made a noise of disgust and disappeared to places unknown, although Adrian was strongly of the opinion that the Minister's arse was getting rather lonely. After Hermione managed to control the giggles that resulted from that particular comment she gave him a hug good bye and Floo'd home, coughing a bit as she stepped on the ashes in the overused grate before calling out her destination as Adrian threw a pinch of Floo powder down around her feet.

"Home again, home again, jiggery jig," she said softly as she stepped through her own grate and dropped her cloak, casting a Scourgify at the small mess that was left on the tiles in front of her fireplace before she pocketed her wand and made her way to the kitchen. "Hello, Crooks," she cooed as she passed the aged ball of fur on the arm of the sofa, reaching to scratch his head but withdrawing just as quickly when he hissed and bared his teeth at her.

Her kitchen was as clean as it had been when she had left that morning, save for the bits of feather and drops of water on the floor near back door, signs that the half-Kneazle currently on the defensive in her living room had ignored the bowl of dry food against the refrigerator in favor of his own 'catch of the day'. After cleaning up the mess, she was about to get herself a glass from the cabinet when a soft 'hoot' sounded from the open window.

"And who are you?" she asked as she moved to the unfamiliar owl in her window, who cocked its head to the side and hopped on the sill a bit before sticking its leg out, offering her a letter.

She ran the back of a finger down its beak and it nipped her playfully before she took the letter and reached into the drawer next to the sink to retrieve an owl treat. The same unfamiliar scrawl that had been on the Quidditch ticket package was also on the envelope.

"What does he want now?" she muttered as she held the treat out in her palm to the owl and then watched as it flew to settle on the back of a kitchen chair, no doubt waiting for her to reply.

She flipped the letter over to see the seal and raised an eyebrow when she saw a small piece of spellotape used as an envelope closure. It wasn't usual for Wizards to write a letter without at least a drop of wax; Harry was the only one she knew who didn't. She wondered if Oliver perhaps didn't use the usual method because he didn't want to follow wizard standards or simply because he didn't have time. Judging by the way in which he spoke about Quidditch, she had the feeling it had been the latter, the sport taking up every free thought he had. Still wondering about the reason, she opened the letter and began to read.

_Hermione,_

_Wanted to make sure you got the tickets. You'll be able to see the Halo 1987 in action; get a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages and look at fouls and different moves in the back of the book._

_Oliver_

Well, that was short and simple, she thought as she folded the letter back up and walked into her living room to write a response. It was rather short, for her, and the owl hooted in thanks as she set a bowl of water out for it so that it could have a drink before setting off through the window, a treat in its beak and a letter tied to its leg. As soon as the owl was out of sight, Crooks jumped onto the sill and hopped out just as quickly, probably in search of something other than the dry food in his dish - again – and leaving Hermione alone in her small home.

When she'd first bought the small cottage five years ago it had seemed perfect for her. There were two bedrooms, a master and guest, so Harry or Ron were able to crash at her house when they were too tired or inebriated after a visit to make their way home. Unfortunately, these visits had all but stopped once Lavender had entered the picture and now she found herself only inviting the boys over (along with Ginny on certain occasions) when the Gossip of London was out of town visiting one friend or another. It wasn't that she didn't like the girl - she did in some way - but the simpering chit was simply too much to take in any type of setting.

She'd actually accused Hermione of trying to 'steal away her red-headed lover' at a Weasley Sunday breakfast almost a year ago. The frazzled witch remembered turning bright red at the accusation and stating that that thought was 'utterly ridiculous', and she had since refused to attend another Sunday breakfast. Ron was still apologizing for his girlfriend's claim and had begged her to come back after a few Sundays had passed, saying that everyone refused to talk to either him or Lavender, who had yet to apologize. Since then, she'd learned, Ron had gotten back into their good graces some way or another and Lavender was still left staring at her own plate during meals and having to ask Ron to pass her various items due to the simple fact that no one would pay her the time to listen to a request.

"Hermione?"

At her name she jumped and swirled around to see Seamus Finnegan's head floating in her fireplace.

"Yes, Seamus?" she asked as she moved to sit on her sofa, which sat directly in front of the hearth.

"I heard you got Puddlemere United tickets," he answered with an easy smile.

"Yes, I've heard that too," she confirmed with a nod. "Adrian's offered to take me," she also explained with a small grin at his startled look.

It was accepted that she was friends with a Slytherin at work but it still threw a few people when the pair showed up well after work ended, settling down for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron. Seamus said goodbye after just a few more words and then she was left to herself to read over the newest Potions texts that were waiting on her side table, making sure to set a few aside to have for the match Thursday, unwilling to endure a repeat performance of her reading list from the Cannons match.

"Using Demiguise hairs to make an antidote to a nullifying potion? Honestly," she muttered to herself as she finished a third text and set it aside. "The fact that it could possibly counteract three-quarters of the ingredients must have been completely overlooked."

She scoffed at the ideas of the newest journalist at 'Potions Weekly' and walked into the kitchen to get a bite to eat before she went into her potions lab in the basement. When she entered the room she saw the owl that had delivered Oliver's letter sitting on her sill once again.

"Again?" she asked with a sigh before walking over to the owl and taking the letter from its leg. "Have a treat, lovely, and stay a bit."

The owl cocked its head to the side as if it were contemplating her offer before it hopped onto her counter and took a treat that she'd left out from his last visit.

_Hermione,_

_I have a free evening tomorrow; meet me at Quality Quidditch Supply at five. It shouldn't take more than a few hours._

_Oliver_

"Hours?" she gasped with a shudder.

A few hours in Flourish and Blotts was sometimes too much for her, and the thought of being surrounded by Quidditch fanatics outside of a match for the same amount of time was almost terrifying. She looked at the owl now settled on her kitchen table, considering the puzzling man who owned it. She was passionate when it came to Potions, but she didn't feel the need to conduct study sessions with those who lacked the appreciation for the fine art. What did he hope to achieve from these lessons? She would have to ask him tomorrow…


	4. Darn Adrian!

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* * *

The Quidditch supplies shop hadn't been as horrible as Hermione had originally expected but she still found herself looking at her watch - something that had just been pushed through the Muggle Integration Department and wasn't out on the markets yet - every few minutes to check the progress of the hands. Oliver had explained almost everything in the shop and had also bought her a few Puddlemere sweaters for the upcoming game, giving her stats on all of the players (on both teams) as they walked through the crowded aisles. They ran into the Seeker for Puddlemere, Erhen Enturs, and he joined the duo as they continued the 'lesson'. Personally, Hermione found it to be more of an opportunity for Oliver to brag than a learning experience – about anything other than Oliver and his teammates, that was. She was a little upset with him; he could have simply sent her the information by owl rather than having her rush through the end of a rather busy workday to meet him on time. 

It had been rather exciting for the first hour, experiencing something new and learning her fair share of Quidditch 'lingo', but after six o'clock it seemed her attention span had thinned, something that hadn't happened since primary school, when she had been bored during her classes, having completed excess homework - her parents had had to begin home-schooling her. Oliver seemed not to comprehend her waning interest and continued to talk and quiz her until the clock at the back of the shop chimed seven. He'd been surprised at the sound and apologized for not setting aside enough time to properly educate her on the basics of the game. She'd shuddered, blaming the cool breeze just blowing in from the door, and assured him that she had enough information to allow her to enjoy the game properly on Thursday, which had him puffing out his chest in some odd male sense of pride. After she reassured him that she would be attending the game he let her go with a 'goodbye' and she was free to shop as she wished in the crowded Diagon Alley. Wednesday had gone uneventfully and now she sat at her small kitchen table, having requested a day off for personal reasons, waiting for Adrian to arrive. She secretly hoped he wouldn't, giving her a plausible excuse not to go, but her hopes were ruined when she heard the Floo flare up, followed by a hasty cleaning charm.

"Hermione?" Adrian called from the living room.

"In here, Pucey."

She conjured another mug and poured him a strong cup of coffee before returning to her tea and the _Daily Prophet_.

"Hello, love," he said with an easy smile as he took the seat across from her and gave her a once over, leaning to the side to check under the table. "That's what you're wearing to a Puddlemere game?" he asked with obvious disapproval.

"What's wrong with this?" she asked, not bothering to look at her outfit – she knew very well what she had put on not three hours ago - and taking a sip of her tea before turning a page.

"You're supporting Puddlemere… and wearing Falmouth Falcons colors?"

Though Hermione's eyes stayed on the paper, she was searching her mind to try to fit the Falmouth Falcons into a memory. It sounded familiar, and not because of her forced lesson yesterday.

"They're playing the Falcons today, witch," the sandy-haired man exclaimed, looking put-out by her lack of awareness regarding the game details.

"It's supposed to be overcast today; the grey will look navy," she said with a shrug, although she knew that that would only rile him up.

"Honestly, woman. Who on earth would send you tickets to a sport you obviously have no idea about? That's like teaching NEWT-level Potions to a newborn," he scoffed before standing up and walking out of the room and towards her bedroom.

"Adrian Pucey, you stay out of my room. I've only just found all of my Gryffindor shirts from the last time you were in there," she demanded, throwing the paper down and rushing after him. The last time he'd invaded her room he'd transfigured most of her school House clothing into bedroom items and hidden the real objects, leaving her to go through everything in her room until every shirt, scarf and piece of jewelry was found.

"You have a bag of Puddlemere merchandise by your bathroom door but you ignored it and wore that!" the ex-Slytherin scolded her as he walked out of her room with the bag from Quality Quidditch Supplies in his hand, and picked out a turtleneck sweater. "We have half an hour before we leave - I thought you'd be stubborn so I came early. If you're not out of that room in three minutes I'm coming in, decent or not," he explained warningly before shoving her into her room and closing the door, holding the doorknob on the off-chance that she tried to ignore his order and walk out of the room without making the change.

Hermione stared at the door of her bedroom and scowled down at the sweater in her hands. She had had no intention of wearing a navy sweater with two golden bulrushes crossing on the front and back but it seemed that she now had no choice. She peeled off the comfortable grey sweater and exchanged it for the stiff Puddlemere turtleneck before opening the door and resisting the urge to kick Adrian in the shin as she passed him. He kept quiet until it was time to leave for the game and then he escorted her to the Floo, telling her to Floo to the Leaky Cauldron and then wait for him before going to the public Apparation point. They Apparated together to the Apparation post just outside the stadium and made their way up to the reserved box.

"This is what we had to get here two hours early for?" she asked, irritation evident in her voice as she looked out onto the Quidditch Pitch and watched the teams warming up.

"You can't truly appreciate the game until you've seen the work that goes into each match," he explained simply before turning his attention back to the field and watching with rapt attention as the players tossed a ball back and forth between one another while they flew in the air.

"Honestly."

She pursed her lips and looked around the box before taking a seat next to Adrian. She watched one of the players drop the ball and shoot down to catch it before it hit the ground, and found herself beginning to hyperventilate.

"That should be outlawed. What if he had lost control of the broom?"

"Then we wouldn't have our starting Chaser in the roster for a few days."

She gaped at his matter-of-fact tone and continued to watch the practice, in silence, until a shadow dropped over her.

"I see you've decided to wear navy," a familiar voice said from above, causing Hermione to sigh and shield her eyes as she looked up.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said tightly before sending an irritated look at her companion, who hadn't taken his eyes off the practice.

"Mmm," was the only reply she got and, noticing the amusement in Oliver's voice, she snapped her eyes back to him. "What do you think so far?" he asked, nodding towards the pitch.

"Is it really necessary to hover above me with the sun behind you? I can feel my neck starting to tense and the light is beginning to hurt my eyes."

"Tell me what you really think," he said with a smile after lowering himself to be level with her. "Isn't this amazing?" he asked, looking for all intents and purposes like a child on Christmas morning.

"I suppose," she said indifferently, hiding a smile at his appalled look.

"You 'suppose'?" he asked, sounding as though he'd never heard the word before. "This is the best sight in the world!"

At that he turned and looked out at the pitch again. Hermione looked back out at the scene, trying to find the beauty in it - and failed. All she saw was a dozen or so men playing around in mid-air on brooms.

"I've gotta use the little boys' room," Adrian said suddenly before standing up and walking out of the box. Hermione gave him an odd look as she watched him go.

"Shouldn't you be practicing?" she asked Oliver when he hovered for a few more minutes, showing no sign of moving to join his team.

"I'm second string, I don't have to practice tonight," he said before gesturing towards one of the players. "Kinner's the Keeper tonight," he explained, maneuvering the broom into the box and landing.

"What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously when he took the seat next to her and carefully set his broom in front of their feet. "Shouldn't you be with the team?"

"No, I'm just at the game to support Puddlemere."

"But you were out there…"

"How else would you talk to someone in mid-air?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You're wearing the uniform," she tried again, not rising to the bait.

"I wore a Kestrels uniform last week and I wasn't playing," he pointed out as he watched the scene before him, leaning forward to see every so often, when the ball was dropped or a trick executed. "Erhen has a Halo '87; I want you to watch him when you get a chance," he said, glancing at her briefly before, once again, turning to the pitch.

"How long do they practice for?" she asked, looking at the door at the back of the box; Adrian still hadn't returned.

"Forty five minutes, then the other team comes out."

"I thought there were only seven people on a Quidditch team?" she said questioningly after making a count of the people on their brooms.

"Three are coaches and the other two are contest winners," he explained.

"Contest winners?" she asked, never having heard of a contest with this type of prize.

"Everyone involved in the Puddlemere club is entered for a chance to win a warm-up session with the team. Those two chose today to come because they're best mates and wanted the experience together."

"Does every team provide that opportunity?" she asked, instantly thinking of Ron and his Cannons obsession.

"Almost every team. The Cannons don't have it - probably too embarrassed of their actual games, much less practices," he said with a snort.

Hermione giggled a bit at his jibe and then looked at her watch. Adrian had been gone for more than twenty minutes.

"Did you see…what's wrong?" Oliver asked, seeing her glancing back at the door again and beginning to worry her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Adrian's been gone a while," she explained before standing up, intending to go and find him; while Oliver was good company, there was something about him that had her questioning his motives.

"I wouldn't bother."

The words caused her to halt and she turned to look at Oliver, who sighed and stood up, looking like a boy confessing to breaking the window with his ball, his shoulders slumped and his focus on the ground.

"What do you mean, you wouldn't bother?" she asked sharply, taking a few steps back, unsure of what he would do next.

"You don't get out much, do you?" he asked, causing her back to stiffen and her chin to lift up.

"I don't see the relevance of my social life in this conversation," she said in her 'work' voice, which had, in the past, caused a few interns to shake and leave without so much as uttering a word to her.

"You've been set up," he explained, walking towards her with a smile playing on his lips.

"What do you mean, set up? By whom?" she asked, letting her irritation show in her voice.

"Adrian owled me when you got the tickets and told me he wanted me to teach you more about Quidditch - and that you'd probably learn better if he weren't in the box. He's down in Erhen's box for the game; I'm in mine, with you."

"Why on earth did you agree to that? The little…" she trailed, off trying to think of any as-yet unpatented potions that had passed across her desk recently and would ensure a painful experience. "I'm going home," she proclaimed after another few seconds of thought, turning to leave.

"You're already here now; don't waste perfectly good tickets. I overlooked my little brother to give you those," he said, reaching out to grab her arm before she made it to the door.

"I didn't ask for the tickets," she snapped, feeling indignant at this revelation.

"But I gave them to you, and it would be rude to simply walk away from me once you've shown up and had a proper conversation with me."

"You're unbelievable," she said, gaping, even as she let him draw her back to her vacated seat.

"That's what I like to hear," he said with a grin before pushing her into her seat and sitting down in the one next to her. "Now, watch Franco - he's a Chaser; he'll be showing off his newest trick here pretty soon, it's like the…"

Hermione looked at Oliver out of the corner of her eye before she turned back to the field and listened to his orders, somehow knowing that this wouldn't be a game like those Harry and Ron took her to. Damn Adrian.


	5. She had FUN?

**Disclaimer- I own nothing...still.  
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**Thank you to:**

**Nynaeve80- Adrian is...he he, I'm glad I don't have a friend like him at the moment lol.  
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**Alenor- He's a sneaky little thing but where would she be without him?**

**Love's a four-letter word- She hasn't really decided yet, I'm female, no other pairs so far...yup that about covers it  
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**san01- I have updated...a few chaps actually but eh, details, details.**

**LaNaHwAnNa - I'm glad you like it so far!**

**SoMe wEirDo - Oi, I hope so too lol, I hope you like the new chap**

**Now, on with the show...Oh yeah, Happy (late) New Years!  
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* * *

"Foul!"

"What, where?"

"Right there!" Hermione pointed it out with a sigh, waving her finger towards the middle of the pitch.

"That's not a foul. It's a legal move," Oliver explained before he returned his attention to Erhen, who was idling above the pitch with a watchful look.

"But the Chaser from the other team did it just a bit ago and you were all but frothing at the mouth, calling a foul!" she countered with a truly confused look.

He looked at her for a minute, then around the empty box, before answering.

"That was because when the Chaser from the Falcons did it, they scored."

She still had the perplexed look on her face, and he fought back a sigh before continuing his explanation, slowly and with hand gestures that annoyed her more than they helped.

"Let's say you're back in school and you notice that someone got a question wrong on their test and got it marked wrong - but when you look at your test, you had the same answer, yet it was marked right. You wouldn't tell the bloody professor they mis-marked, and give yourself a lower grade, would you?"

Hermione looked back at him and bit her lip. That's exactly what she would do, but it seemed Oliver thought it was something only a madman would do. She nodded her head after a few seconds, then looked away from the disbelief dawning, slowly but surely, upon his face.

"You've done that?" He sounded scandalized. "How on earth did you survive seven years in Hogwarts?"

"It's the proper thing to do," she said in defense, and then wondered why she felt the need to defend herself.

"Well, if you haven't noticed by now, proper and Quidditch have nothing to do with one another," he said before returning his attention to the pitch, forgetting her offensive noble habits almost instantly. "What the hell is he waiting for? The grass to grow?" he muttered to himself as he glanced at Erhen, who was picking at his nails as he hovered.

"It's not as if he can call the Snitch to himself; you'll just have to be patient," Hermione said with a small smile, glancing up at the man in question. "Shouldn't he be concentrating on staying on the broom, rather than examining his fingernails?" she asked, tilting her head to the side and squinting a bit to get a good look at him.

"Players are practically born on a broom. It's easier to hover in the air than it is to walk, sometimes."

Hermione looked at Oliver and saw that he wasn't joking; he was serious, although distracted by the game.

"I remember Viktor would stumble when he walked me back to the common room from the library. I always thought it was because he was as nervous as me," she said, thinking out loud, and remembering his less than graceful dancing as well.

"Viktor?"

"Viktor Krum. He took me to the Yule Ball in my fourth year," she explained with a shrug, but then was distracted by Erhen diving. "He's seen it!"

She was up on her feet and leaning over the rail of the box before she could think better of it, and was pulled back and into Oliver before she could fully fall out.

"Tenster sees it, too," he added as he leaned into her to watch the chase. "Come on, come on, come on…" he chanted quietly as he gripped the rail on either side of her.

"They're going to crash."

Hermione watched in sick fascination as Erhen dove straight towards the ground at breakneck speed, and searched the air just before him to catch of glimpse of gold.

"I see it! I see the snitch!" she breathed before leaning forward again, only to have an arm wind around her middle to keep her from falling.

"Come on, Enturs, put 'em outta their misery!"

There was a second of silence before the stadium erupted in cheers.

"Hell, yeah!" Oliver yelled, his free hand drawn into a fist and pumping in the air while his other arm tightened and drew Hermione tighter to him. "Did you see that? Perfect execution, he's been working on that all bloody week."

She'd actually paid attention to a game of Quidditch. She, Hermione Granger, had paid attention to a game of Quidditch, and hadn't even taken a bathroom break, through fear of missing the 'catch', as Oliver referred to it. Hermione clapped and then cupped her hands around her mouth as she let out a yell, then turned her head to listen to the man behind her.

"That was a trick, wasn't it? What he did at the end? A…a wong-something?" she asked, cutting him off a bit rudely, but feeling the need to show him she'd been listening at the shop.

He chuckled into her hair and she felt him shake his head before he answered. "It's called a Wronski Feint, but that's not what he just did. The Feint is..." he was drowned out by another cheer, and she looked back to the pitch to see the team hovering in the middle of the field.

"What are they doing?" she asked above the noise.

"Taking their laps. It's a Puddlemere tradition. The team takes laps around the pitch after a win," he explained as his arm loosened and he stepped back a bit.

It wasn't until he stepped back that Hermione realized how close they had been standing and blushed Weasley red. She silently cursed herself for the action, and turned her head slightly when Oliver stood next to her to take in the pitch. She kept her eyes on the field as he explained the players' ritual and, for some reason, blushed harder when he nudged her to get her attention away from the circling players and to the bucket of what looked like chilled champagne that had materialized on the table in the box after the first lap.

"What's this?" she asked as she walked out of the aisle, careful not to step on his broom.

"Boxes rented to Puddlemere supporters are supplied with a little something to celebrate their team's win," he answered as he slid his wand out of his sleeve and made a few swishing motions at the bottle, causing the cork to pop and the sparkling wine to pour neatly into two glasses.

"That's nice of them; do other teams do it?" she asked as she accepted a glass and swirled the liquid to watch the bubbles rise to the top and then burst.

"Not sure, I've never been in a box of another team, bad luck and all," he answered with a shrug before lifting his glass to her. "To Puddlemere."

She smiled at the toast, as well as his superstitions, and clinked her glass to his before taking a small sip. She didn't like to drink during the week, but this was a celebration – still, she had no intentions of drinking more than one glass. They were sat at the table in a comfortable silence, both nursing their drinks, when the door opened and a rather happy Adrian walked through it.

"Can you believe that? I thought he was planning to spend tea time up there!" the ex-Slytherin exclaimed as he drew up a chair and waited for their response.

"Well it's not as if he can call the Snitch to himself."

Oliver snorted into his glass when the words left her mouth, and they shared a smile across the table. Adrian, however, saw nothing funny in her declaration, and rolled his eyes.

"Same old 'Mione, I see," he said with a sigh, fidgeting.

"Oh, I forgot, I'm not speaking to you," she said, tilting her head back and looking away from Adrian, who sent her a smirk before answering.

"What do you mean, you're 'not speaking' to me?" he asked, actually having the audacity to look confused.

"Tricking me, Adrian Pucey?"

"Oh, that. It wasn't really _tricking_. I did come to the game with you, and I did watch it with you. We just weren't in the same box." At her silence, he huffed and then tried again. "I'll tell you where I hid Crookshanks if you stop pouting like that."

"What are you talking about?" she snapped, sitting up straighter and sending a glare at him.

"Oh, that's right - I have to wait for you to find out the furball's missing first, _then_ I bribe you…damn, I messed that one up."

"What's a Crookshanks?" Oliver asked, sending an amused glance to Adrian.

"The largest, ugliest ball of fur you'll ever see."

"Adrian!"

"Come off it, Hermione. He's got a face only a mother could love, and unless you're hiding something, you didn't give birth to him."

"You are such a prat. I'm telling your mum who really transfigured Mipsy into a stone statue."

Oliver sat back and watched as the two friends bickered like brother and sister. He'd never talked to the two when he'd been at Hogwarts, and he got the feeling they hadn't talked to each other either, but now, sitting across from them, he could tell there was something special the two shared. It wasn't a romantic relationship, but something connected them and probably would for a long time. He listened as they said random things to each other then fell into laughter soon after. There seemed to be a lot of inside jokes between these two, and he wanted to understand at least some of them.

"Are you working tomorrow?" Adrian asked Hermione after the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence.

"Yes; I don't want to get too far behind in my work…unlike some people," she answered, sending a pointed look to the Slytherin, who only smiled in response and blew her a kiss.

"I don't know what you're talking about, love. I'm never behind."

Hermione snorted before answering him, a smile playing on her lips. "Oh, please, you took yesterday, today and tomorrow off for one game."

"Hey, when I do something, I like to do it right."

She rolled her eyes and turned to look out at the pitch. It was getting dark and she should be going home, fixing herself dinner and heading to bed. She planned on being in early and getting in a few extra hours before the official workday began. For some reason, this was a busy week, and she had no doubt that her desk would be in complete chaos.

"I should be heading home," she said, standing up and stretching to get the slight ache in her back under control.

"So you can wake up at an un-godly hour and go into the Ministry early to finish up the paperwork that's sitting on your desk," Adrian interjected.

She only smiled at him, leaning down when she walked by him to kiss his forehead.

"I'll see you for dinner tomorrow," she said before turning to Oliver, who was watching them silently. "Thank you for giving me the tickets, it was brilliant." She smiled, bending down to hug him before straightening.

She'd just opened the door to the box when the Irish man called after her. "I'm sending you tickets to next week's game. I'll be playing, so my mum and brother will be here instead."

She froze and looked over her shoulder to see a very serious Oliver looking back at her. She squared her shoulders, moving into the corridor and closing the door before she let out a sigh and walked to the Apparation point. She had the feeling that Oliver didn't get his love of the game from out of the blue, and meeting the Woods next week would be… interesting… maybe she should pick up _Quidditch Through the Ages_ from the bookstore tomorrow. No doubt she'd be grilled next week during the game by less than forgiving people.


	6. Meetings with a friend

**Disclaimer: I own nothing having to do with Harry Potter. I make no money.**

**Thank you to Rosie for being my beta and a BIG thank you to everyone that's read or reviewed the story so far. **

Adrian had owled her the next morning to tell her he couldn't make it to dinner and after the Quidditch game incident she had fully expected Oliver Wood, who had sent the tickets early this morning, to Floo into her living room ready to eat. She'd been disappointed when she began to cook and there was no sign of a dinner partner other than Crooks, who completely ignored her until she shook his food bag and fed him. Just as the food was done she heard the Floo flare up and she bit back a smile as she turned, expecting to see Oliver.

"'Ello, 'Mione. Oh, I've gotten here just in time then, I see."

"Hello, Ron."

Hermione watched as he moved to the stove and began examining the pot of pasta she had on the boil before opening the oven and inspecting the garlic bread she'd made. He let the door bang shut then stirred the sauce, licking the spoon when he was done, and then turned around to look at her with an expression that said her choice of food wasn't up to par and he wouldn't be staying for supper.

"So I heard you went out with Pucey," he said, arms folded as he leaned back against the stove, careful not to knock anything over, looking very much like a disapproving older brother.

"Oh, for the… what business is that of yours, Ronald Weasley?" she asked before walking over to her cupboard and taking down a plate and a serving platter.

She knew better than to stand still and argue with him; it only ended up in a screaming match when he had something to focus on. Move enough and he'd eventually forget that he was mad and grouse about feeling dizzy from all the movement.

"What business is it of mine? You're like my sister, Hermione, everything you do is my business!"

Okay, the movement strategy wasn't going to work today.

"Ron, it's not your business who I do or do not date. I'm a grown woman."

"So you're not denying you went on a date with him?" the redhead asked, pointing a finger at her.

"Of course I didn't date him. That would be like dating you." She shuddered at the thought and saw him relax a bit. "Besides, I think he's trying to set me up with Oliver."

"Oliver? Who's Oliver?"

"Oliver Wood; you might remember him, he was a few years above us at Hogwarts."

"Wood? Famous Quidditch star, Oliver Wood?" he asked, sounding – and looking – a bit stunned at that bit of news.

"Yes, that Oliver."

"Why on earth would he set you up with him? He's a Quidditch nut and you're…" He paused as if selecting his next words carefully. "You're you!" Okay, maybe not too carefully.

"For your information, Ron, Oliver has been teaching me the basics of Quidditch for the past few weeks. I know more than you think I do," she shot back, a little upset by his words.

"Oh sure, 'Mione, you've been learning Quidditch," he scoffed before having a laugh at his own little joke.

"I even went to a Puddlemere game yesterday and followed it." Why was she defending herself? She always had a thirst for knowledge, he knew that.

"Yeah, with Pucey," he said, his laughter stopping and his face darkening a little at the thought of Adrian.

"No, Adrian was in Erhen's box, I was with Oliver."

"Why didn't you ask me or Harry to go?" he asked, sounding a bit upset, although she was sure it was from missing out on the game and spending time with her.

"You were both busy with Lavender and Ginny. I didn't want to intrude." She shrugged, feeling a twinge of guilt at the lie. She really hadn't even thought to ask either of them.

The last time she'd asked either of them to do something with her had been months ago, if not a year ago, and they had both said yes until the day, when they had to cancel because Lavender or Ginny had suddenly made plans for them and they just couldn't get out of them. No, Hermione thought, she'd learned her lesson there.

"Well we're not always busy with them, we still have time for you," he said as his ears turned red – whether from lying or anger, she couldn't tell.

She chose not to respond to that and instead walked to the oven to take out the bread before it burned, and put it on the platter. After cutting the bread into uniform slices with a slicing spell, she took her plate and spooned a bit of pasta onto it before ladling a small amount of sauce over it.

"Can you hand me a spoon and fork?" she asked, setting the plate on the table before getting the platter and sitting down.

He did as asked and took the seat across from her, leaning forward with his hands clasped on the tabletop as he attempted to stare her down.

"I have tickets to the match next week, if you'd like to go," she offered, twirling the pasta around her fork while using the spoon as a bowl.

"When next week?" he asked after a few seconds.

"I think it's a Thursday. The tickets are on the coffee table," she answered, waving over her shoulder in the general direction of the living room.

"Alright then," he said, standing up and going to get the tickets. He looked them over. "You've got box seats?" he asked, sounding stunned.

"Yes."

"How'd you get box seats?"

"Oliver sent them."

"You really went to a Quidditch match and sat with Oliver Wood?"

"I told you so before, Ronald. Did you think I was lying?" she snapped in response to his disbelieving tone.

"Well…yeah. I mean, no offense, 'Mione, but you don't strike me as the kind that _Oliver Wood_ would go to a match with," he explained with a sheepish shrug, his ears and face reddening again.

Hermione stared at him in shock then leaned over the table to snatch the tickets out of his hands. "Forget it, Ron. I'd rather you didn't go with me. Lavender would just make up something to get you out of it anyway."

"Wait…"

"Just leave, Ron. I'd rather be alone right now," she said coolly before turning her attention to her dinner, completely ignoring the apology he was attempting to stutter out.

He was probably just apologizing to get into box seats at a match, anyway, she thought nastily before sighing and continuing her meal. He stayed a few more minutes, then sighed himself and stood up to leave.

"I am sorry, 'Mione. You know I talk before I think sometimes," he offered one more time before he walked out of the kitchen and Hermione heard 'The Burrow' and the Floo opening and closing to let him leave.

"What an ass," she growled to Crooks, who had just ambled into the kitchen. "I'm not the type of girl Oliver Wood would be seen with. How insensitive!"

She huffed when her familiar didn't seem more sympathetic and pushed her plate away, her appetite ruined by the visit. She waved her wand to start the cleaning process then moved to the living room to curl up with a book she'd just bought that afternoon on her lunch break.

"Hermione!"

She started at her name being called then rushed to the door when someone began pounding on it. Who on earth would be pounding on her door at this time of night? What would the neighbors think?

"Hermione, I just left Ron; he told me what he said."

Harry.

"What do you want, Harry?" she asked as she opened the door and stepped aside to let him in.

"I just wanted to apologize for him. You know how he is. Ginny and Lavender are yelling at him as we speak," the raven-haired wizard informed her as they stood awkwardly by the door, which she had yet to close.

"I doubt Lavender's yelling at him for his behavior towards me. She wants out of the Weasley 'dog house' and he's just mucked it up for a good while." She snorted, then gave a disgusted sigh when Harry's expression told her that was exactly why that particular argument was taking place.

"You know it's not like that, Hermione. She's just….Lavender."

What a mess this night was turning out to be. She rolled her eyes at his words and looked to the book she'd started, and then to the open door. She felt a twinge of guilt when she realized she would have had a better time if Adrian, or even Oliver at a stretch, had arrived while she was eating rather than Ron. She looked at Harry and sighed as she realized how far apart they had all grown. She only saw them really at birthdays and sometimes for the odd lunch, if the girls had canceled on them, and she couldn't really say that she missed _them_. She missed having someone to talk to whenever she had a problem (Adrian did have a life of his own) and she couldn't remember the last time one of the boys had just come over to have a nice chat. Even tonight Ron had come to find out what she'd been doing with Adrian.

"Yes, Harry, I know how Lavender is. I'd rather not talk about this tonight."

"Hermione, you know we love you. We hadn't realized how busy we've gotten, Ron with Lav, Ginny with me and you with your work. We just want to know what's going on in your life and then we hear that you've taken up with Pucey and…" he tried explaining again, which only aggravated her.

"I haven't 'taken up' with Adrian, Harry. We're friends. You both act as if I'm cheating on you somehow by having a friend to talk to."

"We would never think that, Hermione. It's just that Pucey was in–"

"Just leave it, Harry. I don't want to talk about this anymore," she snapped, stamping her foot to get the point across.

He closed his mouth, but still looked as if he wanted to finish the thought. She ran a hand through her hair and gave a frustrated sigh before she managed to calm herself enough to talk to him without wanting to draw blood with her words.

"I think it would be best if we left this alone for a few days. Maybe get together for lunch one day next week to talk it out," she suggested, putting a hand on his arm and leading him towards the door. He'd always preferred to Apparate rather than Floo.

"Alright, 'Mione. I'll owl you when I know for sure when we're free," he promised before he walked outside and headed to the corner to Apparate.

After he left she read some of her book then turned in to get a good night's sleep before driving to her parents' house the next day. She woke refreshed and on the way to her childhood home she actually sang along to the radio, something she usually didn't do, when she heard a song she'd heard a few weeks before, and which had stuck in her head. Brunch was relaxing, listening as her mother and father bickered like a couple twice as old and then shared a laugh at an inside joke. When it was time to go she declined the usual offer to stay the night and made her way home, radio turned down as she thought about the previous day and possible ways the lunch date could go. Hermione had just opened the door to her home when an owl flew in and perched on the sofa, its leg out for her to take its message.

"Let me get you a treat," she said after taking her scroll.

She walked into the kitchen and got the treat, tossing it to the bird as it flew past her to settle on her chair, then sat to examine the delivery. It was a small scrap of parchment that had been fastened with spellotape.

"What's happened to his other owl?" she muttered, breaking the seal and unrolling the parchment.

_Hermione,_

_I wanted to make sure you received the tickets, and to remind you that I will be playing and that my mum and brother will be in the box with you. _

_Oliver_

Hermione re-read the letter a few times and shook her head at the bluntness of it. He wasn't one to make sure a letter flowed well, that was for sure.

"I suppose you were instructed to wait for an answer?" she asked, looking up at the owl, who puffed out its feathers a bit in what she assumed to be pride at being trusted with such a job.

After rummaging in her junk drawer for a spare bit of parchment and a self filling quill she sat down to write a response.

_Oliver,_

_Yes, I've gotten the tickets and thank you for them, although I was under the impression that you had to overlook your brother last time to get me the tickets. I look forward to the game._

_Hermione_

She sealed it and carefully tied it to the owl's outstretched leg then went to open the window to let it fly out. When the owl was nothing but a speck in the sky she walked into her room to change into her 'Saturday clothes', which consisted of a pair of black, stretchy athletic pants and a white, long-sleeved shirt that had been a gift from Adrian after he'd seen her original Saturday shirt – a very red one with a lion on it.

"Come on, Crooks. Let's go laze about," she said as she picked up the familiar from the middle of her bed, where he had been sleeping, and took him into the living room before lying down on the couch and laying him down on her stomach.

She fluffed the throw pillows behind her head and waved a hand towards the wireless radio in the corner, turning it on and to a station that played soothing music. As she relaxed she cataloged what she would do the next week, something that always put her at ease, and smiled when she mentally ticked off Thursday because of the game. Maybe Adrian was rubbing off on her, she thought as she crossed out Friday as well.

"Well," she muttered with a smile as she absently rubbed Crooks between his ears gently, "if you're going to do something you might as well do it right."


	7. Lunch and Dinner

**Disclaimer: I don't own or make any money off of Harry Potter.**

**Big Thanks to Rosie for being my beta!**

**Thank you to:**

**Nynaeve80- Thank you! I couldn't give too much away and Harry and Ron we're good school friends but everyone needs to branch out at some point or another.**

**LaNaHwAnNa- I would say butt head is too strong of words lol. Heres a new chapter!  
**

**Gueneviere- Thank you, I like Pucey/Granger fics but couldn't find it in me to write a multi chapter fic bout them, had to sneak it in lol.  
**

**Pyra Sanada- It's a great ship to love!**

**MmeFleiss- Don't worry, family interaction is coming soon.**

**Tu lo sai inc.- I'm glad you like my writing style and character picking, I hope you continue those feelings.**

**votehermione- Thanks!  
**

**FredWeasleyLover1126- I'm updating...granted later rather than sooner but you'll have that, I guess.  
**

**Dirtybutbeautiful- Here's part of the rest lol.**

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Like Hermione had predicted, lunch was canceled the next week after they'd agreed upon a day. It seemed that a play that both the girls had been waiting to see for months had come to town, and they had demanded that their significant others cancel all plans for that day. The boys, never ones to stand up for themselves, had dutifully owled Hermione and asked for a postponement, something she granted easily. 

"I can't believe they canceled on you again," Adrian said as he sat across from her in the cafeteria at the Ministry. "What kind of show is short enough to be seen during a lunch hour?" he asked with a snort before biting into a ketchup-soaked chicken strip, giving her a smile when she wrinkled her nose at his choice of lunch.

"Just let it go, Adrian. I have."

He rolled his eyes at her then let his gaze wander around the cafeteria. She had asked him to lunch with her today when she'd received the owl from Harry apologizing, and hadn't felt like going down alone and risking the chance of seeing the foursome walk in to eat.

"That is the exact problem with you Gryffindors. Let someone else cross you or yours and you come out baring teeth and growling like a mama lion, but let a housemate cross you, you let it roll off your back. Your house animal should have been a duck, you know," he said with a disgusted sigh before returning to his meal, something he'd picked up from his nephew, or so he'd claimed.

"Adrian, a Slytherin can't lecture anyone about double standards. I'm sure I've heard somewhere that if it were to occur, the world would implode," she teased before tossing her napkin onto her plate and pushing it to the side to allow room for her arms to rest comfortably in front of her. "I've got tickets to the game this Thursday, if you want to go."

"I've got a lunch date with my mum that I can't postpone again," he said darkly, picking up the bottle of ketchup and squeezing a large amount of the red sauce onto his chicken.

"Again?" she asked, although she knew very well what he meant.

Adrian had been putting off having any form of meal with his mother for the past three months and bragged about it to anyone who would listen when the subject of parents was brought up. She hid a smile at the black look he gave her and leaned back to enjoy the show that was 'upset Adrian Pucey'.

"The old woman seems to think that because she gave birth to me she needs to see me every week. Who on earth, apart from you, has time to go traipsing around with their parents?" he asked around a mouthful of chicken.

"It's not that ba-"

"You've met the woman, Hermione. Don't tell me it's not that bad. She owled me yesterday and told me she'd show up here, _at my job_, if I didn't agree to have lunch with her, and then asked when I was going to give her _grandchildren_ to spoil."

He sounded so scandalized at the thought of having children that Hermione couldn't help but let a peal of laughter escape, snickering when he glared. Very few things could get under his skin so it was rather funny to watch him get himself into a froth over something.

"Then I guess I'll just have an extra ticket," she said with a shrug, smiling when his mouth moved but sounds appeared to be beyond him.

"Have your jokes, Hermione. Let me know how Oliver's mum is," he said when he'd regained the ability to talk, a smirk on his lips at the reminder of Hermione being stuck with a Quidditch nut's mother for a few hours.

"It's not until tomorrow. Maybe she'll back out."

His only response was to laugh at her.

"That's like saying you wouldn't go to a book signing when one of your books finally gets published," he said before finishing his meal and standing up to offer her his hand.

She stuck her tongue out at him before taking his hand. They split up to go to their separate offices and she almost made it back before she was stopped by Harry and Ron, who both shuffled their feet before offering their hellos.

"Hey, 'Mione," they said in unison before looking at each other like one had taken the other's line.

"Hello," she said with a tight smile, nodding to both boys before looking past them both and down the hallway that led to her office.

"Can we talk?" Harry asked softly as Ron nodded his agreement.

"I've just gotten out of lunch; I'm on my way back to my office. If you want to talk, follow me," she said before walking between them and down the corridor, not having to look back to see if they were following her. She could hear Ron's feet dragging on the carpet.

"Sorry we canceled," Harry said when they'd made it to the office and the door was closed behind them.

"Yeah, the stupid show was canceled anyway," Ron finished with a scoff before sitting down in one of the two chairs she had placed in front of her desk.

She settled into her own chair and shrugged in answer. "I had lunch with Adrian."

"Oh."

"Is the offer still open for Thursday, Hermione?" Harry asked after a short silence. "We haven't been able to spend time with you for ages and now that you finally understand Quidditch, it could be fun to go to a game together."

She thought about the question and sighed before answering him. "He only sent two tickets, Harry."

"Oh."

"We can get together after the game, though," she offered, smiling, genuinely happy that they were making an effort to spend time with her.

"That sounds great. Owl us when the game's over," Ron said with an easy smile before standing up and rounding the desk to lean down and draw her into a hug. "Love you, 'Mione."

"Love you too, Ron," she answered before Harry gave her a hug and kissed her temple.

"See you tomorrow, Hermione."

She waved to them both as they left and sat a few seconds after they were gone to smile at the scene that had just taken place before getting back to her work. She'd just put the finishing touches to a rejection letter for a proposed time-reversing potion when a throat was cleared in her doorway and a muffled tapping sound began to drift through her office. Looking up, she was startled to see Oliver Wood standing in her office, leaning against the doorframe.

"Hello, Oliver. I'm sorry if I kept you waiting," she said politely, trying to remember whether she'd received an owl from him saying he'd be coming.

"It's fine. I didn't tell you I would be dropping by," he answered with a shrug before slipping his hands into his pockets and returning to tapping his foot.

Feeling slightly relieved that she hadn't forgotten a letter, she smiled at him, motioning for him to take a seat. She glanced over to the clock on her wall and saw that she only had a few minutes left of her day.

"So what brings you to the Potions department?" she asked as she wondered how he'd gotten past the guards.

Because of the potential risks of some proposals that came through her office on a daily basis, the Potions wing was guarded to anyone not on the Ministry payroll or on a list given to the Ministry by her at the beginning of the month; he wasn't on the list.

"I wanted to take you out to dinner tonight and prepare you for tomorrow," he said, looking a bit nervous.

"Why would you have to prepare me for tomorrow?" she asked as she began to clear her desk.

"My mother can be a bit…aggressive," he explained as she bent to place the proposals that were still pending in her bottom drawer, causing her head to snap up.

She saw his cheeks turn a faint shade of pink and gritted her teeth when he offered her an almost apologetic smile.

"Aggressive how?" she asked, breathing in for a ten count then letting it out slowly.

He'd opened his mouth to answer when Percy Weasley stuck his head in her office to tell her she wasn't going to be paid overtime because she was entertaining and felt it necessary to stay over until it suited her to leave.

"Still have that wand firmly up your arse, don't you, Weasley?" Oliver asked with a snort before pushing himself up and offering Hermione his hand. "Come on, Hermione, I've already sent ahead for a table. Wouldn't want to be late."

She hid a smirk as he helped her up and grabbed her coat before they walked past the open-mouthed redhead still in her doorway. She let him lead her to the Floo and raised a questioning brow when the guard at the doors of the wing that held her office thanked Oliver and gave him a wink as they passed.

"I signed a paper for his boys," the Keeper explained, picking up a pinch of Floo powder and throwing it into the fire. "Tranders Eating."

She stepped into the fireplace and closed her eyes then waited for the spinning to stop.

"Hello, ma'am. Can I take your cloak?" a voice asked as a steadying hand landed on her shoulder.

Smiling at the man she shook her head slightly and slipped her cloak off, only to be pushed by one Oliver Wood as he came through the Floo.

"Sorry, Hermione," he mumbled as he helped her with her cloak and handed it to the man.

Not waiting for a return slip, he led her to the host's station and informed him that the Wood party had arrived. He rested a hand on the small of her back as he followed her to the table and pulled her chair out for her before taking a seat himself, surprising her with his before now non-existent manners.

"May I take your drink orders?" a young witch asked with what Hermione assumed was her seductive smile, her eyes resting on Oliver.

"I'd like a water with lemon."

"I'd like a lemonade," Oliver ordered with a nod before turning to Hermione and clearing his throat. "Is Adrian going with you tomorrow?" he asked, playing with the salt shaker that was in the middle of the table.

"No, he had a prior engagement he couldn't cancel," she explained, barely suppressing a smile. She would hear all about the lunch on Saturday night – Friday if it were truly horrible.

"Oh. Then you'll have to be on your toes. Mum likes to talk during the games but she'll still expect you to know what's going on," he started, moving his arms to the armrests of his chair when their drinks were delivered. "Not just Puddlemere, either."

Hermione fought the urge to mutter 'great' and instead opted to prepare her water before taking a sip.

"Who are you playing?"

"Wigtown Wanderers. Their Keeper is Slanders; he's a dolt if I've ever seen one. They have a rookie Seeker that hasn't _seen_ the Snitch, much less caught it, and a replacement Chaser 'cause Minder couldn't keep his eyes away from the girl in his box long enough to see the Bludger coming at his face…"

She watched, and listened, as he seemed to go into a debate about the Wanderers' biggest weakness. He was just making a decision between Slanders and Cagon – who that was, she didn't know – when the wait witch came back for their orders. Hermione ordered a salad, still full from lunch, and listened as Oliver ordered enough food to last her a week.

"You're going to eat all of that?" she asked when the witch left (not without giving him another once over).

"I have a game tomorrow. You don't want me falling out of the sky from starvation, do you?" he asked with a wicked smile before continuing to prep her for his mother.

Some time later, after the dishes had been brought out and cleared away again, they sat and talked about the upcoming game as well as her day at the Ministry.

"Someone really wants to make a potion that would make them _gain_ twice their body weight?" he asked with a snort, sending her a look of disbelief.

"I know, I thought the same thing – why?"

During the course of the evening, they had gotten off topic but neither was willing to stop the current conversation. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to talk to a non-Ministry employee about her work and it put her at ease to know she had a new ear to fill.

"They don't have to explain why they want to make certain things?"

"There is a questionnaire that must be filled out but the answers don't have to be specific. They can be as vague or specific as they want," she answered with a shrug, a smile tugging on the corners of her mouth when he shook his head and chuckled at her story. "I can't be the only one with work-related stories," she said, nudging his leg with her foot under the table, encouraging him to open up.

"Where to start?"

She rolled her eyes when he took his time, giving a mock thoughtful look until she laughed.

"You remember Erin, right? The Seeker." She nodded and he continued. "His first few games on first string we had him convinced that if he spun in a circle and spit on his broom he'd have good luck for the game."

"You didn't!" she said, folding her arms on the table and leaning onto them, wanting to know the outcome of that nasty little trick.

"Yes, we did. We did three-a-days for a week when coach found out but it was worth it," he said with a wink and a smile, almost making her snort with laughter.

"Did they-" she started, only to be interrupted by the waitress, who had given up on the sultry looks she'd thrown Oliver at the beginning of the meal.

"Would I be able to interest either of you in one of the fine desserts we have to offer?" she asked before waving her wand towards Hermione's glass to re-fill it.

"No, still in training," Oliver said, patting his stomach and smiling when both women sent him odd looks. "I can't eat any sweets until the end of the season," he explained.

"Oh. Well, none for me either, I'm not one for eating sweets late at night," Hermione answered, looking at her watch and seeing it was half past ten.

"Late? What time is it?" Oliver asked, the smile on his face dimming as he sat forward in his chair to look at Hermione's wrist intently.

"Ten-thirty, why?" she asked, giving a nod to the waitress as she walked off to greet a new table.

"Damn, curfew was ten. Coach is going to kill me," he said quietly, more to himself than her.

"Curfew?" she asked, automatically thinking of her parents scolding her when she'd returned late one night during a summer break from Hogwarts.

"Yes….fuck. If I'm late for curfew, I'm benched. Damn it, how did it get so late?" he asked, throwing a few Galleons on the table before standing and helping her up then leading her to the cloakroom. "The money is on the table," he said as they passed the waitress.

"You could be benched?" Hermione asked as they waited for their cloaks at the Floo entrance.

"It depends on how Coach is feeling when he catches you, but yes," he said, sighing in relief when the cloakroom assistant handed them their cloaks. "We'll Floo to mine and then you can Floo to your house," he said as he quickly helped her put her cloak on before throwing a pinch of Floo powder in the fire and saying, "Oliver Wood's flat."

She walked through, with a none too gentle nudge from the Puddlemere Keeper, and was still righting herself when he appeared and looked around his living room, something she'd neglected to do when she'd arrived.

"Wood, what the hell time is it?" a gravelly voice asked from her right, causing her to spin around to see a large man sitting on a couch that looked as if it protested his weight.

"Sorry, Coach," the younger man apologized, grabbing Hermione's arm and pulling her close to him. "It won't happen again."

The man looked her up and down and she barely repressed the urge to shudder in disgust when he grinned. "I can see why you're late, Wood. Tell me how she is tomorrow but don't let it happen again."

The man pounded Oliver on the back and gave him a wink before smiling at Hermione and Disapparating with a _crack_, leaving a mortified Hermione Granger behind him.

"He…he thinks I'm…oh my god," she groaned.

"Sorry," he attempted, looking every bit as embarrassed as she felt, his cheeks red and his eyes darting around his living room. "I'll um…I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"Oh my god," she said again, replaying the last few moments in her mind and feeling her face flame. "He thought I was some streetwalker you picked up."

She looked at Oliver, who met her eyes for a fleeting second before offering her a small smile, which turned into a grin then a laugh. She stared at him for what seemed like an hour before clearing her throat and folding her arms across her chest as she waited for him to answer for his random act of hysteric laughter.

"Sorry, Hermione, but you should have seen your face…it was just…" He trailed off with a laugh before trying to calm himself, though he still smiled like a Cheshire cat.

She stared at him in disbelief before reaching to hit him in the arm. "It is _not_ funny, Oliver. He thought you picked me up!" she tried to explain, her face flaming at the thought.

"I know, I know, sorry." He didn't look a lick sorry from where she stood. "I'll talk to him tomorrow and try to straighten it out."

"You'd better."

He smiled then grabbed at handful of Floo powder, threw it in the fireplace and called, "Hermione Granger's flat" loudly.

"I'll see you tomorrow after the match," he said, giving her a hug. "And just think on the bright side," he said just before she stepped in, causing her to stop and turn around to look at him.

"What possible bright side could there be to this?" she asked with a scoff (though she waited for the answer).

"No one on the team can talk to anyone before so my mum won't find out until after the match."

Hermione paled at the mention of his mother and sent him a look that she wished shot daggers before stepping into the Floo and disappearing, mumbling about boys and their bloody friends.


	8. The Game

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything**

**Thank you to Rosie for being my beta!**

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed too! I hope you like this chapter as much as you've liked the previous ones. **

* * *

"I could kill Adrian Pucey right now!" Hermione muttered as she sat in the empty box at the Quidditch stadium with nothing to read but the pamphlet they'd shoved in her hand when she'd arrived. 

She hadn't even thought to bring a book after Oliver's warning on what his mum was like, and she couldn't go and get something from home and risk coming back with her nose in a book and running into the woman. Hermione had taken care this morning to dress in Puddlemere colors and had almost skipped a meal to arrive early, as Adrian had said all the die-hard fans did.

"That's why I told you to go before we left, Brenton!"

Hermione spun around in her seat to look at the now open door of the box and swallowed when she saw a woman clothed in Puddlemere colors from head to toe talking to a boy who looked like Oliver only quite a bit smaller. The woman was around Hermione's height; she had Oliver's sandy blond hair and his smile but her eyes were a deep blue that Hermione had only seen in a box of crayons when she was in primary school.

"Sorry, Mum, but Adder wasn't going in his pen and then da came out and started…." The young boy, Brenton, apologized before he looked around the box and met the now nervous witch's eyes. "Who are you?" he asked, throwing the small banner he held onto the table beside him and tilting his head at her.

"Brenton, you know who that is. Your brother wrote to us about her," his mother answered for Hermione, then turned to her; Hermione stood up and smoothed down her shirt before offering her hand. "Oh, nonsense, if my Oliver's invited you to a game, it's a hug I'm after, not a handshake." And with that, Hermione found herself engulfed in a hug that could have rivaled Molly Weasley's.

After she was set to rights she looked at the witch in front of her and mentally shook her head. She hadn't expected her to look this…inviting after all that Oliver had told her the night before. She'd anticipated walking into the box to be greeted by a woman with Puddlemere written on her face, who would look her up and down then ignore her in favor of watching the game, not waiting in an empty box only to meet a woman who reminded her of her own mother.

"Sorry, dear. Oliver hasn't invited me to meet one of his lady friends in so long I've forgotten how to greet properly. I'm Cathlien, Oliver's mother, and this is Brenton, his youngest brother."

"It's good to meet you, Mrs. Wood, Brenton. I'm Hermione Granger, as you already know. I'm no–"

"Now, none of that 'Mrs. Wood'; you'll call me Cathlien or you'll call me nothing."

"You can still call me Brenton. I don't get called Mr. Wood until I get to go to Hogwarts, huh, Mum?" Oliver's brother asked while looking around the room.

"Right you are, Brent. Now, Hermione, let's have a seat before this one claims the front row all to himself," Cathlien said with a smile, nodding to Brenton, who was in his seat already and looking around the stadium like a child waiting for Santa to come.

A shocked Hermione let herself be led to a seat and was still recovering when a shadow fell over her. Looking up, she saw Oliver; he glanced nervously from her to his mum then back again, biting his lip as if unsure of what to say.

"No need to make me get a stiff neck from looking at you, Oli. Get down here and give your ol' mum a hug."

"Can't, Mum, I'm working," he said with a smirk before continuing, "I just wanted to check how you and Hermione are getting on."

"Like a house on fire, love. Don't worry, I won't scare your lady love away," the woman said with a giggle, causing Hermione to blush and Oliver to find a sudden reason to return to his post quickly.

"Um…Mrs. Wood, I mean Cathlien, Oliver and I aren't…"

"Oh, me and my big mouth. I'm sorry, Hermione, I should have known you weren't ready to come out with the relationship yet, what with those crazy fangirls and whatnot. Don't fear, this is the last I'll speak of it today; wouldn't want anyone overhearing now, would we?" his mother said, throwing her a wink, before turning to Brent. "What do you think Puddlemere's going to do tonight, Brenton?" she asked, her voice losing the motherly tone and taking on a quality that reminded Hermione of the way Ginny sounded when she was at a game.

"Well, they have Oli instead of that poof Kinner," he answered with a shrug before squinting across the pitch. "Slanders is Keeper for the Wanderers but I don't think he's going to be in for much longer; Delco told me he heard that the dolt went after Cadence a few days back and old Decker found out this morning. I bet he gets benched by quarter after."

Hermione smiled when Cathlien looked over at her but cracked open one of the programs that had appeared on the seats and looked through the Wanderers section, hoping against hope that there might be some tiny piece of evidence as to what the two were talking about. She was soon rewarded when she read a bio on the coach, Eric Decker. He had a daughter, Cadence, who was his pride and joy, and it was rumored that she would be making her debut as Seeker for the team later in the season. She shook her head at the picture of Slanders, who looked rather slow even for a picture, and then turned her attention back to Brenton, who was already off on another story.

"Enturs is sitting out this game, Mum, did you know that?"

"I heard he got mouthy to coach but I didn't think it was that bad. Oli better keep to the rings if they want to win this one, don't you think, Hermione?" the mother of the man in question asked as she turned towards the brown-haired girl, who sat like a deer in headlights.

"Oh…um, yes. He'd better watch out for er….Stanton, the replacement Chaser. I heard he's trained with the Bulgarian team for a few summers," she stuttered out, thankful for her ability to retain information.

She'd spotted Stanton's name as she was looking through the program, and remembered it from Viktor writing to tell her about an English Chaser joining the team to learn a few new skills before being drafted to a professional Quidditch team back in the U.K. She watched as Oliver's mum digested her information and blew out a held breath when the woman seemed impressed and turned to ask Brenton why he hadn't heard that.

"I tell you, it's so refreshing to have a woman around that knows more about Quidditch than could fit in a thimble. Where you a supporter in school as well?" Cathlien asked as she watched the teams warm up, muttering to Brent that the right side looked a little weak and coach should keep an eye out for it.

"Yes, I was," she answered honestly, leaving out the fact that she'd only really ever cheered for a few people on the team and not the team as a whole.

"And what house were you in?"

"I was in Gryffindor, almost Ravenclaw," Hermione answered with a shrug before turning her attention to the pitch.

Oliver was hovering a few feet in front of the hoops and she could see his head turn towards the box a few times before he shook it and returned his concentration to the warm-up. Stanton – or rather, the man she assumed to be Stanton – was leaning back on his broom above the pitch, looking as though he would rather be anywhere else.

"I'm just about starving, Hermione, what about you?" Cathlien asked as she stood up from her seat and stretched, looking over to the younger woman for her answer.

"I'm a bit hungry too, I suppose."

"I'm starving, too, Mum. You could have let me get breakfast before I did chores," Brent spoke up as he jumped out of his seat and raced to the door of the box, turning and giving an impatient sigh when he saw the other two occupants were still by their seats.

"If you hadn't ignored me when I tried to wake you up this morning you would have had time for breakfast, so you have no one to blame but yourself. Come on, Hermione, they've just started serving something called 'corndogs' that I want to try. Oli said they're amazing."

It seemed that everything Oli – which was the name Hermione fully intended to use for the remainder of their friendship – said was taken as absolute truth. She let herself be led away and had to bite her lip to keep from laughing when the small part of the Wood family she was with were introduced to corndogs, which they held by the very end of the stick while hanging them upside down; Brent gave his mother a look that said they shouldn't count on Oliver – no, sorry, Oli – for anymore food tips.

"You're supposed to get a condiment to dip them in; they're like a hotdog, really, only…well, not," Hermione explained as she ordered her own and asked for a side of mustard and ketchup, hiding a smile when the other two almost instantly did the same.

They made their way back to the box and ate their food, Brenton being sent to get another round for everyone after they were done with the first batch, before finally resuming their seats. The Quidditch talk recommenced almost instantly and Hermione began to understand why Oli had taken her to dinner to try to prepare her. His mum was ruthless.

"I don't reckon coach was thinking too hard when he signed on Cranden; did you see that boy during warm-up?" The question was directed towards Hermione and she panicked when she realized she only knew a few of the players on the roster, and some only by name, not face.

"Um…I'm not sure I know…." She cut herself off when she saw Brenton pointing out to the pitch at a man she didn't recognize and smiled when he mouthed 'Cranden' to her. "I've never seen him play, really; he was benched the last game I was at," she finished with a shrug.

Cathlien looked over her shoulder to see what had caught the girl's attention but only saw Brenton sitting watching the warm-ups and shrugged before she too returned her attention to the pitch. She was so wrapped up in watching the plays that would be executed in the game, she missed the relieved smile that Hermione sent her youngest son and the wink he returned.

It was halfway through the game and Hermione couldn't help but admit she was having a most enjoyable time. She wasn't caught too off guard at the questions Cathlien was throwing at her because she was paying attention to the game and had, as Oliver had suggested, read _Quidditch Through the Ages_ back to front the previous night to brush up on the fouls and moves that were possible in the course of a game. She'd even surprised herself by pointing out a foul that both Cathlien and Brenton had missed.

"Go, Oli!" Hermione screamed along with her box-mates when the Keeper in question blocked a particularly good throw from a Wanderers Chaser.

"Did you see Oli, Mione; did you see how he just stopped that thing like it was nothing?" There was more than a bit of pride in Brenton's voice as he asked the same question he'd asked every time his older brother had blocked a goal.

"I saw, Brent. He's brilliant, that's for sure," she answered equally enthusiastically.

"Why is Stanton sitting on his backside? Doesn't he know he has a game to win?" Cathlien asked with a huff immediately before jumping up to the rail. "He sees it! Finally getting your thumb out of your arse, Stanton? Go!"

If she hadn't been sat with her for the duration of the match, Hermione wouldn't have believed such words could flow so smoothly from the woman she was now standing next to by the rail, but she'd heard enough by now to make even the most hardened Auror blush. As she thought about the woman beside her, the stadium erupted in cheers – something that didn't startle her as much as it had before – and she joined in the celebratory dance that Cathlien started.

"Now for champagne!"

She couldn't help but smile when she saw Brenton's eyes light up as he practically ran towards the table, watching eagerly for the bottle and glasses to appear.

"A sip, boy, and not a drop more!" Cathlien said even as she poured him a full glass.

She gave Hermione a glass and, after pouring herself one, raised it in a toast.

"To Puddlemere."

"And Oli!" Brent added before downing half the glass, conveniently not meeting his mother's gaze when she raised an eyebrow at him.

While she knew she should feel like an outsider in the box, Hermione couldn't help but share in the mischievous grin that Brent threw her when his mum busied herself with straightening all of their clothing, giving Hermione a pinch on the cheek when she was done straightening the collar of her shirt.

"Come on, then. Let's go face the madhouse," was all that was said before Hermione found herself whisked out of the box and down the winding steps that, as she soon found out, led to the entrance of the locker room, which was swamped with more people than she'd ever seen congregated in such a small space.

"He shouldn't be too long. He's usually the first one out."

Hermione opened her mouth to answer but was pushed forward by an overzealous fan that had found it necessary to push his way to the front of the….well, mob, really. She turned to share her displeasure with Cathlien only to find the woman doing exactly what the boy had just done to her, using her elbows as she maneuvered through the crowd.

"Come on, Mione, Mum can get through a line quicker than anyone I've ever seen," Brent called before he practically glued himself to his mother's back in order to get closer to the door.

Hermione followed suit and almost choked when the door swung open and the coach came out, his gaze resting on her almost as soon as his eyes adjusted to the flashbulbs going off in his face. She turned red and quickly glanced to Oliver's mother to see if she'd noticed that the man was staring at her and had, to Hermione's mortification, smiled and winked when she'd made the mistake of meeting his gaze.

"How much longer do you think it's going to take?" she asked after tearing her eyes away from the huge man who stood in front of the locker room door, almost blocking it completely.

Without even looking at the clock on the wall above the door, Cathlien answered, "Three minutes tops."

She stood silently and fought the urge to cover her ears when, two and a half minutes later, Oliver exited the locker room and was greeted with a roar loud enough to wake the dead. He smiled and posed for pictures as he scanned the crowd but when his gaze landed on the trio he waved off other pictures and moved towards them – only to be stopped by coach, who leaned down to whisper something in his ear while waving his hand towards Hermione. She wanted to melt through the floorboards when whatever he said caused Oliver's face to turn pink.

"Let's get outta here," the Keeper said when he finally made it to them, his arm going protectively around Hermione as he led the group towards the Apparation point. "Hold onto me," he ordered, grabbing her arms and wrapping them around his waist before Apparating without warning.

They arrived in the yard of a rather large farmhouse and she bit her lip nervously when she saw a banner hanging from the door, reading 'Congratulations, Oli!'.

"Oliver, where are we?" she asked, but the question was answered straight away as Brenton ran to a stable to their right yelling, "Da, da, guess what?" Her plans of him being 'Oli' had flown out the window at the thought of being at his parents'.

"A celebratory dinner, of course," he answered with a smile before beginning to walk towards the house, dragging her along by the hand he refused to release.

"Dinner? What are you talking about?" she demanded, trying with little success to tug her hand free.

"Whenever there's a win in the family, Mum makes a big deal out of it and has a dinner to celebrate," he explained when they were close enough to smell various dishes cooking.

Hermione smiled; it was certainly a bonus to being a witch, being able to prepare a delicious meal so easily. After a final unsuccessful tug she let him lead her into the house and to the table that was arranged in the center of the kitchen; it looked very much like The Burrow.

"Tallen should be home soon and then we'll start," Cathlien said from her position at the sink as she looked out the window and into the backyard.

"Who's Tallen?" Hermione asked, turning to Oliver.

"My older brother."

"So your entire family will be here for dinner?" she asked slowly.

He seemed to pick up on her tone and gave her a sideways look before answering, "Yes, it's a Wood tradition."

Hermione sat in silence for what seemed like ages before she finally stood up and went around the table to Oliver's mother, who had turned from the sink to watch the two of them with a look of pride on her face.

"Thank you for a lovely time at the match, Cathlien, but I'm afraid that I won't be able to stay for dinner."

"Whatever do you mean, dear? We have plenty and I was looking forward to getting to know you better; everyone was," the older witch exclaimed, looking a bit hurt, which caused Hermione to feel lower than a piece of dirt on someone's shoe.

"I'm sorry, but I was under the impression that I would just be attending the game and made other plans for afterwards," she responded quietly, sending a nasty look over her shoulder to Oliver for putting her in such a position. The least he could have done was warned her that there was a possibility of 'family time' after the game.

"It's quite alright, dear. I can't for the life of me understand why Oli would forget to mention a standing after-match dinner with his family…" She let herself trail off and raised an eyebrow at her son over Hermione's shoulder. "Well, there's always next time," she added happily, pulling the younger witch in for a hug.

Hermione smiled when the woman released her then moved to the door, only to stop short when she almost ran into a chest. Expecting it to be Oliver, she sighed before looking up to give him a 'move now' expression, and found a man she'd never seen before looking down at her.

"Well I don't know what I've done to deserve such a lovely look from you, love, when I don't even know your name," he said with an easy smile.

"Tallen, this is Hermione. Hermione, this is my brother, Tallen." Oliver made the introductions as he rounded the table and put a hand behind her elbow. "If you'll excuse me, I'll see Hermione off," he said quickly before pushing back Tallen, who looked deep in thought as he stared at Hermione.

"Nice to meet you," she said, throwing Oliver an odd look as he tried to usher her away from his brother.

"Hold on," Tallen said before they'd gone more than ten steps and she heard Oliver curse before he tensed and turned his head.

"Not now, Tallen," he said through gritted teeth.

"What are you boys talking about?" Cathlien asked as she came to stand beside Tallen just outside the door.

"What _is_ going on, Oliver?" Hermione asked when he gave a loud sigh and hunched his shoulders.

"Tallen talks to coach; they're mates from school," he said quietly, almost as if he didn't want his mother to overhear.

After thinking for a minute, Hermione shrugged her shoulders and asked, "So what?"

"Think about it…"

"Why do you want to run your girlfriend off so fast?" Tallen asked before Oliver could finish what he'd been trying to explain.

"How did you find out, Tal?" Cathlien asked happily as she moved forward to stand next to Hermione.

"Anton told me Oli was late for curfew last night and when he did show up… Hermione, was it?" After a weak nod from Hermione was issued he continued, "Hermione Flooed in before him."

"Oliver Andrew Wood!" Cathlien screeched before Hermione could process what had just been revealed. "How could you keep such a serious relationship from me? Young man, you have some explaining to do!"

With her face flaming, Hermione turned towards Oliver to see what he'd say, only to find him in the same state. After opening and closing his mouth a few times he finally spoke.

"Mum, that was our first date; it wasn't…"

"So I've raised a playboy?" his mother asked, sounding even more offended at this thought than that of having a relationship hidden from her.

"Good lord, no! Mum, listen, I've been teach–"

"It was near eleven when they got home, that's what Anton said."

"Tallen, shut up!" Oliver yelled after his brother gave his unwanted statement.

"Eleven? You're never out that late; you don't even come here after nine."

"Alright, I was on a date with Hermione but we only went to my flat because it was already late and I wanted to make sure she…"

"She even sat in his box last week, when he told you he gave his tickets to Erhen," Tallen added with a smirk, winking at Oliver, who looked ready to lunge at his brother.

"What? Oliver, you know I wanted to see the Falcons after they beat us last year."

"I thought you were joking when you said you overlooked your family to give me those tickets, Oliver!" Hermione said with a gasp as she turned her attention from Cathlien to her middle son, who grew pink under her gaze and looked down at his feet rather than meet her eyes.

"Oh, I don't blame you, dear," his mother said soothingly, running a reassuring hand down Hermione's arm.

"I just wanted you to have a decent lesson," he mumbled, turning his head away from Tallen – a futile endeavor, as his older brother was leaning close to catch every word.

"What do you mean, 'lesson'? You didn't even give the contest winners box seats and they bloody laid money down to win some time with you."

"Oh, Tallen Avery, shut up! You're making it worse for yourself, sounding like a five year old," Cathlien snapped before turning to Oliver. "Although…he is right, love."

"I'd rather not discuss this now, Mum," he answered tightly, his hand once again going to Hermione's elbow, only now moving down to entwine his fingers in hers.

The movement didn't go unnoticed by his mother and she quickly closed her mouth and, with a kiss to Hermione's and Oliver's cheeks and a stern frown for Tallen, she turned and walked back into the house, calling over her shoulder that dinner would be ready soon.

"Come on, Hermione, we need to talk," the Keeper said, already leading her away from his brother and towards a large tree that looked as if it had been there since before the earth was made.

He sat down at the base and motioned for her to join him with a pat on the ground. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both looking straight out at the open field that lay before them, until Hermione nudged him with her knee, a tacit request that he explain what had just happened. He sighed heavily but began to speak nonetheless.

"I guess you're wondering what's going on, right?" he asked; he turned his head to look at her, a smile playing on his lips, reaching out to brush a few strands of hair out of her face before continuing, not waiting for her nod, "Where should I start?"

"I find the beginning's always a nice place to start," she answered quietly.

"I suppose you're right. When I saw you at the Cannons game, I – I don't know, I wanted to get to know you," he started, only to have her interrupt him.

"You give tickets to all the girls you want to meet?"

"No, gods no. I've never done that before. It's just that you were learning so well that I thought you'd want to watch a game – a proper game, not a Cannons game – in person to see how everything flowed together off of parchment. Then, during the game, well, I didn't think I'd have as much fun as I did and then Pucey came back and you were talking to him and I just…" He snapped his mouth shut and looked away from her for a few seconds before turning back and continuing, "You were different than I thought you'd be and I wanted to know more about you."

"That's why you gave me the tickets for today's game," she said, thinking back and remembering he'd only offered after Adrian had come back.

"Yeah, I'd already decided that I would give them to you again but I didn't know when. Then I remembered my mum would be coming this week and thought it was as good a time as any to introduce you, you know. A lot of girls are intimidated by her."

"I can imagine," she uttered before she could think better of it, and then slapped her hand over her mouth as she stared at Oliver with wide eyes, afraid of how he would take what she'd just said.

Instead of looking affronted he laughed and ran a hand through his hair before shaking his head, giving her a smile when he'd laughed himself out.

"Don't worry, I've heard worse said of the woman. I wanted you to meet her and her to meet you so if anything ever happened you wouldn't feel so…nervous about meeting my mum, but I think I just made you more nervous at dinner. Oh, and then coach catching us. I should have remembered Tallen goes out with him. I didn't intend for my mother to ever find out about that; I was only joking when I said that bit about her not finding out until after the match."

Hermione didn't know what to think as Oliver explained his actions so she stayed silent and mulled over what he'd just told her. She'd understood that his mother wasn't ever to know about the flat incident and that he'd wanted to get to know her but other than that she was at a loss.

"What do you mean 'if anything ever happened'?" she asked when he'd stopped talking.

"I just thought, you know, that maybe one day I'd want you to meet her," he muttered with a shrug as he turned his face away.

While she'd always been quick on the uptake, she found herself sitting in silence for a few seconds before his meaning sank in and she felt her cheeks flame. He'd said he'd wanted to get to know her better earlier but she'd simply thought he'd meant as a friend – but with the last bit of information he'd supplied she began to wonder if he'd meant more than that. She was just ready to open her mouth to ask him if her line of thought was correct when Brenton jumped in front of them and sat down.

"What is it, Brent?" Oliver asked when the boy simply stared at them with an expectant look.

"Tallen sent me down here to see if you two were snogging," the boy explained with a smile before glancing between the two of them. "Were you?"

Oliver sighed and, after looking at Hermione, smiled at his brother, reaching an arm out to ruffle his hair.

"Don't let Tallen boss you around, you tell him to do his own dirty work from now on," Oliver ordered his brother before he stood up and helped Hermione to her feet as well. "Come on, then, Hermione. Let's go have dinner."

She looked up and found herself nodding before she could think not to. Oliver grinned and began to lead her to the house and she let him, a smile forming on her lips as Oliver sent Brenton ahead to let the rest of the Wood clan know that they were returning.

"Alright, I'm sure if we ignore Tallen and convince my mum I didn't overlook her for whatever reason she's come up with, we'll be fine. Just follow my lead," he advised when they'd made it to the back door.

She nodded and followed him in when he smiled and gave her a quick hug. They walked in to find four sets of eyes on them: Cathlien, Brenton, Tallen and a man she assumed to be Oliver's father. She smiled at them nervously and took a seat when Oliver pulled a chair out for her, shifting slightly as the silence grew until, finally, his father spoke.

"I'm Creed, Ms. Granger, Oliver's father," he said, inclining his head to her when he spoke.

"Oh, please, call me Hermione," she said with a smile, breathing a small sigh of relief, mainly because Oliver took her hand in his until his father smiled back.

"Well, Hermione, I'm glad to have you at my table. Pass the potatoes, please."

And with that, dinner began. The family brought each other up to date on what was happening in their lives and Hermione was surprised to say the least when she was asked about her life and how her job was going. After an hour, the meal was done and the dishes were quietly cleaning themselves then flying to their proper places and Hermione found herself enjoying the end of her day as she talked over potions with Creed, who had apparently always loved the subject. It wasn't until Oliver made their excuses that she realized it was past eleven o'clock and time for them to go.

"Thank you, Cathlien, for a lovely day," she said for a final time before waving goodbye to the rest of Oliver's family and letting the middle son lead her to a point some way from the house before Disapparating.

When they arrived at their destination, Hermione looked around to see that they were at her flat and there was an irritated Adrian Pucey sitting on her couch.

"I'll just be off, then," Oliver said quickly before taking a bit of Floo powder and calling out, "Oliver Wood's flat"; and he was gone.

"Hello, Adrian," she said happily and then, knowing he would more than likely be there until the wee hours of the morning, went to the kitchen to put on a pot of tea.

"Don't you 'hello' me, Hermione. I had a horrible afternoon and came here thinking to rely on my friend to listen to me only to find her flat empty and her…pet ready to attack anything moving! Did you know…?"

She smiled as he began to rant and rave about his day and couldn't help but find it amusing that she'd thought she'd have to do the same thing when she came home from the match today. _Well, it's true_, she mused as Adrian began to pace in front of the fireplace; _what a difference a day makes_.


	9. Lessons

**Disclaimer: I make nothing from this story, J.K Rowling does, though.**

**Thank you to everyone who's reviewed or read the story, ya'll rock!!! **

**Don't go into shock!!!! lol I have updated. I'm sorry it's been so long! **

**It's not beta'd but it's still better than nothing I suppose. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

Hermione woke up earlier than she would have liked the day after the game and looked around to see what the cause was. Aside from the loud snores that belonged to one Adrian Pucey, who was sleeping on the couch in her living room due to a rather long night of venting and alcohol consumption, nothing was out of place. It wasn't until she'd looked out the window to check the sky that she saw a small owl whose pecking must have been drowned out by Adrian's snores. Rolling out of bed she made her way to the window while trying to recall if she'd ever seen the bird on her window ledge. 

"I'm coming, you little bit. Keep your feathers on." She muttered when she reached the window and saw the bird had gone from pecking to attacking the window with its claws while it hovered in mid-air.

With the window opened the bird flew in and landed on her bed before setting itself to rights and sticking it's leg out to her. She approached the bird carefully, not wanting the attack on the window to transfer over to her. Once she had the letter in hand she waved to her desk, where a bowl of owl treats sat on the corner, and tore open the letter, expecting the letter to be from Harry or Ron for standing them up last night.

'_Hermione,_

_I am writing you to let you know I owled Potter and Weasley for you for last night, I didn't think you'd have plans for afterwards so I think it was only fair I explain for you. My mum has been sending my owls all morning asking when I think you'll be coming for dinner again and told her it was up to you, I hope you don't mind. I also wanted to know if you'd like to go out to lunch with me today around noon. You can send your answer back with Fore or by Floo. I should be home all morning. _

_Oliver'_

Hermione re-read the note before turning to look at the owl, Fore it seemed, that now sat on her desk looking rather pleased with itself as it scooped up another treat from the bowl. While she'd like to say yes she had the feeling that Harry and Ron would be arriving at her house soon to talk about what Oliver had done. She sat at her desk and wrote her reply, thanking him for the offer but asking for a rain check, before tying it to Fore's leg and sending it off to Oliver's flat.

"I want coffee," Adrian's sleep heavy voice stated from the door of her room, causing her to start a bit at the unexpected sound.

"You know how to use the coffee maker, Adrian. I explained it to you last month," she reminded him with a smirk after seeing his face darken a bit at the trap he'd set for himself because of his nosiness and need to know simply every muggle item she had in her home.

"But you make it better," he argued, not very convincingly but argued none the less.

"No, you bugged me for ages about learning how to use the thing, now it's your turn to show me how much you love knowing about it."

She laughed when he growled something she was sure was rather unpleasant about her and closed her door to let her begin dressing for the day. She might not have wanted to get up this early but she was and going back to sleep was almost never an option in these situations…that and she wanted to see how badly Adrian screwed up the coffee.

"You have an owl," Adrian informed her when she walked into the kitchen, waving the envelope in the air before tossing it to her.

"Why are you up so early?" she asked, knowing he usually didn't roll into work until ten after eleven. That thought made her stop to think before asking. "Shouldn't you at work?"

"It's only ten, I've got time," he assured her before pouring a cup of the rather thick looking coffee into a mug and taking a sip. "What the hell!"

She watched as he spit the rather rank looking liquid back out into her sink and turned the taps on to wash his mouth out.

"How on earth did you get the coffee pot to brew something that thick? Is there a setting I didn't know about?" she asked as he dumped the contents of the cup and the coffee pot into her sink before turning the water on to clear it all down the drain.

"Shut up. The thing hates me," he defended himself, throwing a glare towards the coffee pot. "I'm going home to get ready for work, love. See ya."

And with that he kissed her on the cheek and left through the Floo, leaving her alone with the letter she'd almost forgotten about. Recognizing Harry's hand writing she grimaced as she opened it, not wanting to see the words they'd have for her.

'_Hermione,_

_Ron and I got called into an emergency meeting and won't be able to make dinner tonight, sorry. I don't know when it'll end or what I'll be doing after it but I know that we'll have to reschedule for a few weeks from now, something tells me this is big._

_Hope you had fun at the match, when we have lunch you'll have to tell me all about it._

_Love,_

_Harry'_

She was both relieved and a bit scared for the boys that they were called into the meeting and had to cancel, making her feel less like a bad guy for standing them up last night. With Fudge still in office there was no telling what the meeting could be about and she knew from past experience that they could be unable to have normal lives for a few weeks or months afterward because of the 'missions' they were given.

"And there I was feeling guilty," she muttered to herself before turning to start breakfast.

The dishes were cleared and the pans were soaking when a bell from near the fireplace rang, alerting her that someone was about to enter her Floo without her permission. With her wand drawn she walked into the living room and waited for whoever it was to get trough the tripping hex she'd applied for such occasions.

"Her…bloody hell," was heard as a man fell into the coffee table positioned in front of the fireplace before he jumped up and turned around to stare at the now empty fireplace. "What the fuck?"

"Oliver?" Hermione asked, her cheeks turning pink at what she'd just put him through. "Sorry about that…it's just that after the war we, you know, wanted to take precautions. You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" she continued, only thinking of headlines flashing 'Wood Unable to Play due to Hermione Granger Crippling Him'.

"I'm fine; it just surprised me, is all. I didn't expect it," he said with a shrug, giving her a reassuring smile before looking around her living room, making her wish for some reason that she'd cleaned up the blanket and pillow Adrian had left haphazardly on the couch.

"Sorry, excuse me," she said walking around him to move to the fireplace and tapping the wall beside it.

A scroll appeared from thin air which held a list of names for those able to enter her Floo freely. She quickly wrote his name on the parchment and tapped it four times to seal it before it disappeared again.

"What was that?" he asked when she turned to face him, a confused look on his face as he looked from the now empty wall and back to her.

"I have to add you in order for you to safely enter through Floo. That was the list of those able to do so as well."

He raised an eyebrow as if to ask another question but seemed to have thought better of it and looked around again.

"Oliver…why are you here?" she asked after a lengthy silence.

"What? Oh, yeah, sorry, the press got a hold of the letter and found out about the lunch date. Slight change of plans," he explained with an apologetic glance before he looked her over. "Is that a Puddlemere jumper you're wearing?" he asked sounding a bit surprised at his observation. "Don't worry about changing. I've taken the liberty of choosing a place to eat and have absolute confidence in the security there. All you need to do is ward up and we'll be off."

She hesitated a bit at his rushed manner but grabbed her cloak and followed him through the Floo, casting a lock and key charm before disappearing. She didn't know what to expect when she stepped out of the grate but Oliver's flat wasn't even in the Quidditch pitch. She'd seen only the living room on her infamous visit here and found herself turning to look to the couch, breathing a small sigh of relief when she saw it was empty.

"Don't worry, Coach has nothing to do with my life outside of Quidditch," Oliver assured her with an amused grin. "Come on, lunch is ready."

She followed him into the almost bare kitchen and raised an eye brow at the large amount of food set on the table, swan shaped napkins floating above the place settings and a few candles, unlit, hovering above the whole table.

"I didn't know what you'd like to eat so I got a bit of everything. mum said she noticed you were partial to chicken last night so there are a couple types," he explained pulling her chair out and helping her sit before taking a seat across from her, giving a nervous looking smile before he picked up the swan napkin and shook it out to place over his lap. "Dig in, then."

Hermione smiled at him before following his order, an easy conversation starting over the shared food.

"This is delicious, Oliver. Where did you get it?" she asked after sampling the fried chicken and placing a few strips on her plate before going back to taste more.

A look she would almost call relief crossed his face before he answered. "My mum and a few restaurants," he answered as he too filled his plate.

"Very good."

"Thank you," he said with a pink tint covering his cheeks.

"No, thank you. Not just for this," she said motioning to the food set out before them. "I didn't even think to write Harry or Ron last night." She explained further when he gave a confused smile at her thanks.

"Oh, well like I said, it was my fault you weren't able to go," he said brushing away her thanks. "Now lets eat, I've made plans for after lunch."

At that revelation Hermione raised an eyebrow but did as he said none the less, finishing up with her plate and moving to what looked like a double layer chocolate cake with fudge frosting.

"All done?" he asked when she put her fork down and placed her napkin over her plate.

When she nodded he stood and walked around the table to help her up.

"We'll be going by Portkey," he informed her before pulling a rather battered looking quill from his pocket and holding it out to her.

She gave him a small smile before gently taking the tip of the offered Portkey.

"Where are we going?" she asked while waiting for the familiar tug just behind her bellybutton to begin.

"Now what's the fun if you know what the surprise is?" he asked with a tilt of his head and a lopsided smile.

"You know the surprise and you're humor hasn't dissipated," she said in an attempt for information before the quill turned blue and she was lifted off her feet.

A few seconds later she found herself being steadied by an excited looking Oliver who barely waited for her to have both feet planted firmly before he grabbed her hand and lead her to a spot a few meters away from where they'd landed. Looking around for something that would tell her where she'd landed she was a bit disappointed to only see green grass as far as the eye could see. Turning to Oliver she opened her mouth to ask where they were only to stop short when she saw him… or more importantly what he was holding.

"Are those brooms, Oliver?" she asked taking an unconscious step back from the grinning keeper in front of her.

"Right in one, love," he said with a laugh before he held out an arm to offer her a broom.

Hermione stared at the offered broom for a few seconds before meeting his eyes again. She hadn't forgotten to tell him her fear of heights, had she? Everyone knew she didn't 'do' heights; it was a 'Hermione Rule' as Ron liked to call it. He raised an eyebrow when she didn't accept it and drew his arm back to look at her curiously.

"What's the problem?" he asked cocking his head to one side and throwing her a looking of confusion. "You do fly, don't you?"

She shook her head and almost laughed at the dumbfounded look he took on at her answer.

"You are joking, aren't you?" he asked as if she were having one big laugh and that she'd suddenly grab the broom and show him a Wronski Feints.

"No, I'm afraid not."

"But…you had to pass flying to pass to year two at Hogwarts," he said, sounding scandalized.

"I did pass but Madame Hooch knew I had a fear of heights and didn't make me do anymore than hover during classes," she explained, repressing a shudder at the memory of when she'd gone to high and fallen off her broom. She hadn't broken anything but it had been enough to enforce her opinion that she should stay as near to the ground as possible while still being considered in the air.

"How on earth could you not get on a broom and not want to touch the clouds?" he asked leaning on a broom and looking at her the way he'd stared at her when she'd admitted to having a teacher lower a test score.

"It was rather easy, I can assure you. One of the first times I got on a broom I flew to high and fell off," she explained with a shrug, looking around again to find even a familiar rock formation to get a glimmer of thought on their location.

"I'm sorry for your fall but I can assure you will never fall again. No offence to Madame Hooch but she isn't the most vigilant person. Come on, you'll be flying in the air like a fish swims in water by the time I'm through with you," he assured her before holding the broom out again and moving forward until she had no choice but to take the broom or take a step back.

"I don't think this is a good idea, Oliver."

He dismissed her statement with a wave of his hand and mounted his broom.

"Alright, now mount your broom so we can get this match underway," he said with a clap of his hands as he began to hover.

"Really, Oliver, I don't think…"

"Granger, get your arse on that broom or I'll put it on for you," he snapped, sounding so much like his coach that she all she could do was quickly mount and stare at him wide eyed. "Thank you, that's much better. Sorry I had to get a bit gruff but it's like Coach says, 'if you want something done, ask or do it by force'," he said with a sheepish smile before he coasted over to hover in front of her. "Now give me your hands."

"Why on earth would I do that?" she gasped, horrified at the thought of being on a broom and having nothing more than her legs keeping her on.

She glanced down at her white knuckles and shook her head to get her point across. She hadn't even left the ground yet and she was terrified of what could happen.

"So you can learn to trust me and the broom to protect you. That's what we're here for, now kick off a bit and give me your hands," he coaxed.

"Or you'll yell at me again?" she asked, deliberately trying to end the session by any means necessary.

"I've already apologized but it got the job done. If I have to do it again I will. I can handle seeing a girl who's not a Quidditch nut but I draw the line when she doesn't even know how to fly. Now kick off and give me your hands," he said again, this time putting more force in his words.

After a few deep breaths and an inner battle she kicked off as gently as she could and used all her concentration to communicate with the broom to only stay high enough so her feet just skimmed the grass.

"That's not even hovering, Hermione. Open your eyes and look at me," he said gently before a hand rested on her shoulders, causing her to jump and nearly topple over.

"See, I told you, if I get to high I'll fall off," she said giving the command to make the broom set her gently on the ground.

"If you would have had you eyes opened you would have seen you weren't even off of the ground. Now I want you to look me in the eyes and just relax. Broom's are like horses, they can feed off of your emotions so you have to stay calm."

"Just stay calm?" she asked getting up the courage again to kick off, this time with a bit more effort.

"Yes, just stay calm and you'll be fine…no don't tense up. The broom is going to sway a bit in a breeze but it won't over turn as long as you know how to handle it. Now come up even to me," he encouraged, hovering a meter over the ground.

"Okay, just tilt the handle back towards me?" she asked looking up at him, some of her fear consciously gone at the revelation that brooms fed off the emotions of it's rider.

"That's all you do. Don't pull back to quickly or to hard, though. You'll take off quicker than a snitch," he said with what she assumed was an attempt at humor but came off sounding like a threat.

Squaring her shoulders she did as he said and found herself even to him, no shaking or wobbling in sight. After the initial meter he rose half a meter every so often to let her get accustomed to the height before taking her higher. After the third meter and shaky arms on her part he began to ask her about job. What made her want to pick a career in Potions, did she like her co-workers, what weird potions patent's had come past her desk, questions of that sort, moving either higher or lower when each question was asked or answered. She'd gotten so wrapped up in the subject she'd forgotten his game of following him from one height to another and did it without prompting from him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after he'd deemed her able to maneuver a broom up and down properly.

"Surprisingly good. When you have something to take your mind off of it it's not that bad," she said with a bit of shock.

While she wasn't ready for a game of Quidditch she did feel confident on the broom.

"Very good, now we can get to the actual flying, follow me."

The flying hadn't gone as smoothly as the maneuvering and she still felt a bit shaky when she landed on the ground, thankful that that was the first time she'd touched the ground since the lesson had began. She watched as Oliver flew in a few circles with ease before he landed beside her, a smile on his face.

"Did you have fun?" he asked dismounting his broom and reaching out for hers, which she gladly handed over.

"I liked the maneuvering but the flying…" she shrugged her shoulders as if words couldn't describe her feelings on the action.

"It'll grow on you," he assured her before he shrunk the brooms and pocketed them before holding his arm out to her. "Hold on."

The next instant she was in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron. She followed the keeper out to the wall and waited as he tapped the bricks to reveal Diagon Alley.

"I thought we were going to look at brooms," she said when he led her past the Quidditch supply shop without even slowing to glance through the window.

"Why would you think that?" he asked with a smile that told her he'd been expecting the statement.

"Well today's 'lesson' was about flying so I just assumed you'd want me to see different brooms in person," she explained with a shrug.

"Who say's it was a lesson?" he asked with a wink before turning into a familiar store.

"What are we doing here?" she asked as she looked around the almost empty ground floor of Flourish and Blotts. "Hold on, what do you mean not a lesson? Why else would you teach me to fly?"

"It's something I enjoy and I wanted to share it with you. I actually thought you knew how to fly so teaching you wasn't planned but it was fun so it didn't matter," he answered with a shrug before nodding around to the shop. "This is your favorite shop, isn't it?" he asked looking a bit nervous for her answer.

"Yes, but I still…"

"We've done what I like and now we're doing something you like. It's what you do on a date; Hermione…which is what this is if you haven't figured it out yet."

She stared at him, dumbfounded, as he walked to the sports section and disappeared between the stacks. She walked towards the potions section and couldn't help the smile that spread on her face. She hadn't really thought of today as a date. Yes, they'd had lunch but she just assumed that he wanted to show her how to fly afterward because they hadn't had a lesson since last week's game. Now looking back there were things that should have told her he didn't think of their interaction today the same way she had. There was more to Oliver Wood than she had originally thought and, now that she had time to get to know him, she looked forward to learning everything.


	10. GaspI'm alive! :

Hey everyone…..I'm back lol. I'm seriously going to finish, promise. My life has just gotten super busy at the moment so I had to take a (loooooooong) break :) Well, I'm off to write a chapter, don't know how it will turn out but when I'm done with it, you'll be the first to know lol.

Thanks for waiting and all the reviews, you guys are awesome!


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